


All the Ways You Know Me

by FlamingMaple



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, What-If, Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-01-02 02:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 50
Words: 98,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21153890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamingMaple/pseuds/FlamingMaple
Summary: Tragedy strikes just before Bella and Jacob can welcome their baby. Still waiting for her chance at vengeance, Victoria is emboldened by Jacob's death and then thwarted by the Cullens’ surprising return. Beta'd by the lovely chayasara over on fanfiction.net





	1. No

Author's note for 2019-10-23: This is a repost of an older story, which the talented chayasara has graciously agreed to help beta. There will be some new content for this tale, and it will update whenever chapters are ready. Happy reading!

~ Erin

* * *

“No,” Bill said, walking up to Charlie, hand held out to prevent him from approaching.

“Go back. We’ve got this.” He was shaking his head.

Charlie tilted his head, eyes narrowed, and brow furrowed. “I’m on call. What’re you doing here?”

Bill swallowed, looking at the wreck, and then back at Charlie. “Where’s Bella, Charlie?” he asked softly.

“At home. Why?” Charlie asked, but then he looked more closely at the twisted metal, and he didn’t need an answer.

He knew the car, and he knew the license plate. 

Bill’s hand stopped him again, this time pressing the buttons of his shirt into his chest. “You don’t need to see it, Charlie. Come on.”

Charlie nodded automatically, understanding but not moving. 

“Carol,” Bill said, “you give him a ride back?”

There were other words, but Charlie wasn’t grasping all of them. He had a vague sense he should protest and drive himself, but didn’t, simply sitting in the front of the cruiser. He listened to the sounds of the car, his mind reeling a-whirr with how he would tell Bella.

He sat in the office, marking the responder notes with the tip of his pencil, pressing it down, putting little holes in the top of the carbon paper.

When Bill returned, notification papers in hand, Charlie shook his head. “Leave it,” he said. “It won’t spoil with waiting.”

Bill nodded but looked at his watch.

Yes, there was work to be done, and only so much time to do it in.

“After lunch,” Charlie mumbled, “after her midwife appointment.” He didn’t add that she usually ate better before those appointments, spurred to the extra care, knowing that her midwife Kerry would press the point. He wanted to offer her this small thing, this last meal, and a few hours of peace before they destroyed it with this news.

Bill followed Charlie home, letting him pull in and go inside first. 

“Hey, Dad, what brings you home so early?” Bella asked, trying to push herself up from the couch. 

Charlie didn’t say anything but smiled weakly, putting a hand on her shoulder to keep her from standing up.

Bill entered, and Bella glanced up at the soft click of the door. 

“Hey, Bella,” Bill said, coming to sit across from her.

She looked at Charlie beside her and Bill across from her. They were disturbingly quiet.

Then Bill cleared his throat. “We’ve got some bad news, Bella. I’m sorry.”

She froze. She knew exactly what was coming.

She just didn’t know who.

Charlie took her hand into his own, squeezing it tightly.

“Jacob was killed in a car accident this morning,” Bill finished.

Bella said nothing and made no noise. Her throat contracted as she tried to swallow but couldn’t. Instead, she asked, with as much of a voice as she could, “Does Billy . . . does Billy know?”

Bill nodded. He and Carol had gone there first, sparing Charlie that misery. 

Bella tried to breathe. 

In and out, she told herself. Just breathe.

She couldn’t let the grief take hold just yet. No. So she kept breathing, one hand on the swell of her abdomen, feeling the soft movement of the baby shifting inside her.

Bill looked at Charlie, his eyebrows raised. Charlie nodded and Bill stood. “I’m sorry, Bella,” he said, and turned to go, his exit as quiet as his entrance.

“Help me up, please,” she said. Charlie gave her his arm, and she shifted herself, leveraging her weight against his. She slipped on her sandals, the only shoes that still fit, and her coat.

“Bella,” Charlie said, “where’re you going?”

“For a walk,” she said, her voice shaking. She held up her hand to him when he started to move towards her. “No,” she said, “I need some time alone.”

The gesture was reminiscent of the morning’s horror, and Charlie caught himself. Keep it together, he told himself. She’s gonna need you soon enough.

She shuffled herself outside, walking carefully down each step. Pregnancy, and especially advanced pregnancy, had made her coordination worse, if that was possible, and she instinctively moved slower, trying to spare the baby any unnecessary falls.

She followed the trail into the woods, finding herself winded sooner than normal, turning toward the bark of a giant cedar, hands caressing its spicy scented bark. Then she let the tears begin. She was far enough from the house that she knew Charlie wouldn't hear her, not that he would fault her for it, no, but she needed this to be private.

The tears became something else though, and gurgling up with the grief was a vitriolic anger.

He had left her.

Just like he had left her.

Her rational mind, squeezed aside by her emotions, rallied and told her that he hadn’t left. He hadn’t chosen anything. He wouldn’t have.

The feelings were louder, though. Jacob was gone. Just like he was gone. This was enough for angry condemnation and a safe evasion of the worst parts of the grief.

It helped her to smash the heel of her hand into the minute curls of the tree’s trunk. She must have stood there a long time, thrashing at the bark, because the snap of twigs told her she was no longer alone

“Come on,” Charlie said softly. “Come inside. It’s getting cold.”

She’d let him put his arm around her, holding her up and walking her back along the path to the house.

The soft twilight of evening had come and gone, and the harsh darkness of night had made its presence known in more ways than one.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	2. Watched

He had watched.

_ Lurked or stalked, more accurately _ , he thought to himself on his worst days.

On better days, he told himself his cause was noble.

Jacob was gone, and she was alone. He would keep her safe until . . . He was less certain about when that would end. There were so many things that could hurt her. He could protect her from some of them. With others, he could only wish.

She wept and then slept restlessly most nights, from grief or discomfort, he couldn’t tell. It was frustrating. It made him ache in fresh ways not to be able to soothe those tears.

Her health concerned him. She was carrying her pregnancy well, but he could hear small blips and dislocated beats in her body that he didn’t like. He would ask Carlisle about the strange melody of her heart and the baby’s. They didn’t seem . . . right, to him.

He’d resumed his silent surveillance after Alice had called him. She’d been able to see Bella again in more than fits and starts, and what she saw had rattled her enough that they’d both come back.

But only Edward had stayed.

Alice had been distraught, watching Bella, more distraught and then angry when she caught snatches of Edward’s possible choices.

Bella was close now to delivery, and he could hear the sound of her body subtly shifting, preparing itself. Perhaps a few days. Not long.

He’d liked the midwife, Kerry. She was pert and intelligent, thoughts kind and practical. The obstetrician, Dr. Carr, had been another story though. He was new since Carlisle had left the hospital, and his mind was marked with contempt for the people he served here. He thought himself above them. That hadn’t rankled him as much as the doctor’s thoroughly unprofessional assessment of Bella.

Edward hadn’t been sure he’d be able to stay concealed when the lewd fantasies had been so viscerally imagined. He allowed a shiver to carry the memory and fury down his back rather than force his anger onto the defenseless trees near Bella’s home.

It had only been a consultation. He consoled himself with the likelihood that the young doctor would never actually lay hands on her. No, her midwife was skilled. There would be no need.

For now, he listened to Bella and Charlie talk.

“Are you sure?” Charlie asked again. “I can stay with Sue and let you and your mom have your time together.”

“No, Dad,” Bella whispered, her voice husky with emotion. “The Weber’s said she could stay with them. They’ve got room now that Angela’s at school.”

“Sure, but, well, if you change your mind . . . ” he offered.

Edward could hear the rustle of her nod.

“I talked to Dave today,” Charlie went on. “He’s gonna refund your damage deposit and stuff.”

_ Was she short of funds _ ? Edward thought, frowning. He wondered if he could find an acceptable way to help her financially without raising suspicion. He would have to talk to Jasper about that—if Jasper would talk to him, that was.

“Thanks, Dad. You didn’t have to do that,” Bella said.

“Yeah, I did,” he said gruffly.

“You didn’t . . . do anything that could get you in trouble, did you?” She sounded worried.

“No,” Charlie said, chuckling a little. “I just asked, Bella. People are . . . kind. They all want to help.” Edward could hear him shrug.

“Thank you,” she said again, this time much more softly.

There was no more conversation, and Edward frowned. He wasn’t sure what was happening.

“I think I’m going to head up to bed, Dad,” she said. He heard the scrape of the chair as she pushed herself back from the table.

The crack as she stretched was loud.

“Sore back?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah,” Bella said. The word wobbled with more emotion than Edward would have expected.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Charlie said.

Edward heard their embrace. Bella’s breathing become irregular with her tears.

“It’s gonna be okay all right?”

A moment passed, and Edward could hear her moving slowly up the stairs.

Good. She would be in bed soon, and he could watch more closely.

He felt a guilty squirm at this thought but shoved it away.

He was surprised at how quickly Bella fell asleep and slipped silently into her room as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t disturb her. He could hear Charlie downstairs but knew he’d have plenty of time to disappear or hide if he needed to.

He took his familiar seat, listening to the steady and healthy thump of her heart. The peace of its thrum and her scent flooded his senses. In these moments it was enough to simply be near her.

His peace, though, was short-lived.

By the early morning hours, the rhythms of her body had shifted, and he could hear the tiny contractions taking on a profound regularity.

If his own heart beat, it would have been running at twice its normal pace. Part of it was excitement. She was having a baby. A child of her own flesh. The father was immaterial. It was hers. He wondered what it would look like, if it was a boy or a girl. He could hear its formless thoughts, soft and gentle, its Intelligent musings. He smiled. She would meet her child soon.

But he had other thoughts, too, worried ones.

So much could go wrong in childbirth. Or after.

He frowned, listening to the sounds of her body squeezing in on itself. No, he told himself. He was just imagining things. Everything was fine.

She was beginning to stir, though, and with a final quiet sigh, he stood and slid out the window, closing it behind him.

He stole away and called Carlisle.

“There are other doctors, Edward,” came the terse reply.

Edward blew out a breath, making the phone whoosh and hiss with static. “Yes, but . . . could you not arrange to visit, perhaps—if things become difficult?” he asked.

Carlisle sighed. “What are you not telling me?” he asked.

Edward wished Carlisle were close by so he could hear what his father was thinking. He would feel better in giving him this information if he could hear him. He explained, haltingly, what he’d seen and heard.

It was Carlisle’s turn to blow out a breath. “I see.” He paused. “How many doctors do they have on staff this weekend?”

Most people wouldn’t have thought to ask. They wouldn’t have thought it possible that he would have checked. But of course he had checked. And on the midwife’s alternates, too.

Edward told him.

“All right,” he said, “I’ll be nearby, ready to ‘visit,’ as you put it, just in case.”

Edward thanked him and hung up.

Inside, he could hear Bella call out, “Charlie!”

He stiffened. She  _ never _ called him that, not to his face, anyway. He listened closely. Her heart was racing, and she was trying to breathe in a measured fashion.

_ Yes _ , he thought to himself,  _ she’s realized. _

Charlie’s thoughts were abruptly loud with panic. He hadn’t expected this, not yet, and not without Renée there.

“Let’s call the midwife,” he said abruptly.

“No,” Bella said, “she said to wait for the contractions—” but she couldn’t finish the statement, the wind knocked out of her by the next tightening.

Edward was alarmed by the power of the contractions and began timing them. One minute long. Two minutes since the last one.  _ No, they should definitely be calling, _ he told himself.

Charlie was obviously thinking the same thing.

“No, it’s time.” He walked the short distance to the phone.

Edward didn’t spare attention for Charlie’s conversation with the midwife but listened to Bella instead. She was breathing through the now regular contractions and starting to make noise to get to the end of each one.

“Here,” Charlie said, handing the phone to Bella.

She grunted, taking it, and continued to make unintelligible sounds in response to the midwife’s questions.

She had clearly handed the phone back to Charlie when Edward caught his, "Okay, see you soon. Bye.”

He was moving around, gathering things.

Soon, Edward heard the sound of two sets of footsteps on the stairs and then at the front door.

He followed the car in a parallel line, cutting through the woods. He had to stop at the treeline, bound by his promise not to reveal himself.

He was glad that Carlisle had no such restrictions.

The noises became harder to catch, but there were at least more minds through which to watch Bella. The midwife, Kerry,was a careful observer, and he was glad for her sharp eyes.

They hadn’t been in the hospital long when the midwife’s thoughts became abruptly concerned.

Edward could tell why—exactly.

He pulled out his phone.

“Now,” he said to Carlisle. “Hurry.”

When the black Mercedes pulled into the parking lot, Carlisle Cullen stepped out and turned, giving Edward a dark look.

“Please,” he called to him. “ _ Please _ .”

Carlisle nodded but frowned, too, and then walked into the hospital.

He stopped and chatted with the Emergency Room clerk and the general clerk and then just happened to run into the emergency dispatch nurse, all easily located by scent. He continued to casually greet people, staying in sight, waiting.

The obstetrician's thoughts preceded him as he drove into the parking lot.

Edward’s face grew taut at hearing these musings, and a tree took the brunt of his anger. The odious man needed to be stopped immediately, and potentially, permanently.

Edward set a rock carefully by the obstetrician’s intended parking spot. As the loathsome man stepped from his car, Edward’s shape, invisible with speed, jarred the doctor’s step onto the rock and then his hand into the pavement. He heard the snap of bones.

“Fuck!” roared Dr. Carr, cradling his working hand with his other, standing up awkwardly.

Edward watched with grim satisfaction. The doctor couldn’t touch her now, quite literally.

It wasn’t long before Edward could hear a nurse asking Carlisle if he could see a patient, an emergency.

The relief Edward felt was rooted in his gut. She would be safe in Carlisle’s hands.


	3. Birth

Carlisle moved quickly, possibly more quickly than he should have. His worry was weighed down with old guilt and general medical concern.

“How severe?” he asked of the nurse, trying breathlessly to keep up with him.

“She thinks class one or two,” she said, huffing to match his hurried steps.

When Carlisle reached the door, he rapped with his knuckles, gaining the occupant’s attention.

Charlie went wide-eyed and silent, swallowing.

Bella didn’t see him. She was kneeling on the bed, forehead resting on Charlie’s chest, hands digging into his shoulders as she tried not to push.

“You’re doing great, Bella,” Kerry said. “The doctor’s here.” She looked at him, saying “Doctor . . .?”

“Cullen,” Carlisle said. “Hi, Bella,” he added, as she turned her head to see if it was really him.

When she was satisfied, she turned her head back, saying nothing but nodding in acknowledgment.

The nurse, oblivious to the subtext in the room, was prattling to the midwife. “What luck, eh? Dr. Carr, breaking his hand in the parking lot and then Dr. Cullen visiting.” She shook her head at the first and smiled at the second.

“Most unfortunate,” Carlisle mumbled, pretending to use a stethoscope. He looked at the midwife, nodding. “It sounds small. A class one, I would venture.”

“What does that mean?” Charlie asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Carlisle looked at the midwife. Better to let her explain.

“It means that the placenta has detached from the uterine wall, and the baby needs to come quickly,” she said, “which means you should push, Bella, and we’ll monitor to see how you’re both doing.”

The word push was all Bella needed to hear, so she did.

Carlisle backed away, letting the midwife handle the fundal checks. Cold hands were not welcome ones in any labor.

“Good!” Kerry said, “The baby’s moving well. Keep going!”

The encouragement went on, and Carlisle could hear the baby’s heart rate was reassuringly steady.

“All right, Bella, we’re close here. When the baby comes, Dr. Cullen’s going to—”

“NO!” Bella said.

Kerry stepped back, startled.

“No,” Bella panted, “ _ you _ take the baby, not —” Her sentence was cut off by another contraction.

“Um—” Kerry started, obviously thinking of the hospital’s policies and procedures.

“It’s fine,” Carlisle said. “We can do that.” He gave the nurse a look and nodded towards the midwife.

Kerry tilted her head and raised her eyebrows at this change in protocol but readied herself. Carlisle laid out the equipment for her.

When her daughter slipped into the world, it was with a startled cry of relief and joy from Bella. Kerry clamped and cut the cord, whisking the baby off to the warming bed, where she began checking her carefully.

Her baby’s cries were reassurance enough for Bella, and she slumped back onto the bed, Charlie’s arm catching her.

“You did it!” he cried, surprised by his own tears, caught up in the delirium of it.

“Good sounds.” Carlisle smiled softly at her. “Good work,” he added, and began kneading her abdomen, trying to get her uterus to contract. He’d slipped a blanket over her, giving her as much privacy as he could, and was sniffing carefully, keeping one eye trained on the mattress, watching for the seeping red. The volume he could detect was reassuring. No hemorrhaging. The soft shuck of the placenta, sliding fully away inside, was the other sound he caught.

“One more push,” he said softly, watching Bella’s face contort with the discomfort he knew his hands must be causing.

The nurse slid the placenta into a bowl, and Carlisle took it away, examining it carefully. “All intact,” he called to the midwife, who was wrapping the baby loosely in a blanket to give to Bella.

“All hale and healthy here,” she said, and let Bella see her daughter.

“A girl,” Charlie breathed, kissing the top of Bella’s head. “Girls are good.” He smiled, and Bella laughed.

With Kerry’s hands now free, Carlisle looked at her sideways as he continued to knead Bella’s midsection. “Perhaps you’d like to check?” he asked.

“Sure,” Kerry said, wondering what Bella had against Carlisle that her lip curled every time she looked at him. The man looked like a movie star, for God’s sake. “I’m just going to see if you need any stitches, Bella, okay?”

Bella nodded, and the nurse approached her side, encouraging her to nurse.

Charlie blanched. “I’ll go call your mom,” he said, seeing this as a good way to get out without seeing more of his adult daughter than he really wanted to.

“You’ve been a trooper, Dad,” Bella said, “highway-patrol worthy.” She grinned, still happy to poke fun at him, even in the joy of holding her baby.

Jacob’s baby.

This thought resurrected the grief that simmered just below the surface of everything, and she kept the steely grin on her face until Charlie was out of the room. Then the tears flowed freely.

“Are you hurting, honey?” the nurse asked, looking at Bella’s face. “Nursing shouldn’t be painful—” she started.

Kerry interrupted her. “I don’t think that’s it. Is it, Bella?”

She shook her head.

Kerry laid a soft hand on her arm. “It’s okay to cry.”

“I heard, Bella. I’m sorry,” Carlisle added, putting down the notes he’d been making.

Bella’s nod was curt, jaw tight.

“All right, Bella, you do need some stitches, and I’m afraid this is beyond my expertise. Dr. Cullen?”

Bella closed her eyes.

Of all the doctors, of all the days.

She grimaced visibly.

_ But your baby is safe, and so are you _ , she told herself.  _ Get over it. _

She nodded and felt the very startling and cold touch of his hands again, trying not to jump at the fresh stings that were starting to push outwards.

“Do you want me to give the baby to your dad, Bella?” Kerry asked, seeing her squirm.

She didn’t want to, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be holding her while she was feeling Carlisle’s hands touch her so intimately.

"Okay,” she said, looking at the small face before her. She brushed the wet down of her daughter’s black hair from her eyes, which opened just as Kerry’s hands took her.

Kerry smiled. “She has your eyes, Bella. Totally.” Settling her in the bassinet, she cooed, “Let’s go find grandpa,” and wheeled her outside to find Charlie.

“You good here, Dr. Cullen?” the nurse asked, looking at her pager.

“Sure. I think we have everything we need. Bella?” he asked, hoping she would need something, hoping the nurse would stay.

“Fine,” she said, barely polite.

As soon as the nurse closed the door behind her, Bella unleashed her anger, “Why are you here? And why the hell now?”

_ Why indeed? _ Carlisle thought. He would have liked to drag Edward into the room to answer that one.

Instead, he lied smoothly. “I was just in the area, checking up on the house,” he said.

She didn’t believe a word of it but was too angry to even roll her eyes. The prick of a needle to flesh not desensitized by freezing made her inhale with a hiss.

“Sorry,” Carlisle said, pulling out a new syringe. He could see fresh tears with the sting of it. “Are you sure you don’t want some Tylenol or ibuprofen?” he asked.

She shook her head.

He frowned slightly.

“May I ask why?” he asked, working as quickly as he could.

She didn’t answer right away, but when she did, her “No” didn’t invite further discussion.

He nodded, accepting her response, but adding, “Nursing can cause some serious cramping, not unlike labour pains.” He watched, seeing if she was absorbing this. Deciding she was, he went on. “If you’re planning on breastfeeding, it’s important to have some means to manage that pain. Heat is good, or massage,” he suggested. “Tylenol and ibuprofen are okay but not aspirin,” he said.

Her jaw clenched again.

“Are you done?” she asked, when he rolled the stool away, snapping off his gloves.

“Yes,” he said, opening his mouth to add more.

“Good,” she said. “Please leave and don’t come back.”

He understood, undeniably, that she didn’t mean into the room. Looking at her and choosing his words carefully, he said, “You won’t find me intruding into your life, Bella.” Turning, he walked to the door and left.

Bella turned away from the door, not wanting anyone walking in to see her face. She only had a moment before the nurse came in to help her clean up. The woman’s animated talk provided a safe layer over Bella’s feelings, and she lost herself in the mindless chatter, breathing shallowly.

Outside, a less gracious exchange was happening under the cover of trees.

“We have no place here, Edward—none. We left.” Carlisle said, his voice cold.

“We didn’t know what we were leaving,” Edward said. “I was wrong, I know, but—we can’t leave her now, not until Victoria is dealt with.”

“You seemed content to leave her with Jacob. What’s wrong with the rest of the wolves, hmm?” Carlisle asked. “You know as well as I do that this has nothing to do with Victoria and everything to do with your feelings. Don’t do me the disservice of lying after what you asked me to do today.”

Edward glowered. “Content” was not the word he’d use. Far from it. “I was wrong to leave,” he said, “We’ve all known that since . . . ” He couldn’t quite finish the statement.

“Yes,” Carlisle said. “We have.”

“It’s different now,” Edward said, “Jacob’s gone—”

“Exactly,” Carlisle said, “and do you think she would really welcome your presence after what you heard today?” He gestured toward the hospital.

“She won’t need to,” he said, his anger audible. “I won’t intrude. I just mean to see her safe.”

“In her bedroom?” Carlisle challenged him.

Edward looked down. “And you would have me leave her helpless and alone?”

“There were wolves watching her, Edward. You know that.”

There were, but not close enough, not to his satisfaction. And now that he was back, they’d retreated to their own territory.

“I will keep her safe until we’ve dealt with Victoria,” Edward said again.

Carlisle could see that he wouldn’t be swayed, so he pulled out the only card he could really play. “Then we should all be here to deal with this. So you can at least be in the open and maintain our appearance as a family.”

Edward looked horrified. “I  _ promised _ her,” he said. “No, we can’t do that.”

“Then leave and let the wolves deal with this. She is the mother to one of their children, Edward. They will keep her safe.”

But he couldn’t. He literally couldn't leave. It felt like something was slicing him open even to consider it. He sucked in a breath and then pushed it out again with the words, “Fine, we’ll settle here again, then.”

“You heard what she said,” Carlisle said, lifting his chin towards the building.

Edward nodded.

“This will not make her happy,” Carlisle went on.

Edward nodded again. “But it will keep her safe.” And right now, that would be enough.


	4. The Blue Button

Renée had promised to be present for the birth and to help take care of Bella and the baby afterwards. Having missed the first installment of her vow, she was working hard on the second, and by late that evening, Bella had sent her home, feeling the beginnings of exasperation bubbling up through the wear of the day.

“I’ll be fine, mom. There are nurses here. Go. Sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Bella said, yawning. She had just set the baby into the bassinet, the awkward angle over the railing hard on her back.

Renée was herself exhausted after a long flight and the thrilling news of Charlie’s phone call. “All right,” she agreed reluctantly. “You’ll call me, though, if you need anything? I’ve got my cell, and I can be here in a heartbeat. Anytime.”

Bella nodded, trying to smile to reassure her. It was hard to make the corners of her mouth move upwards.

Renée’s heart could hardly bear the anguish, watching Bella try to be so brave. She kissed her and disappeared without adding more weight to the strain Bella was carrying.

Once her mother was gone, Bella sighed, leaning back in the bed. She wished it was fully dark in the room, but the diffuse light from the hall was persistent, as was the noise of nurses and patients in other rooms. Despite the constant noise, Bella found her eyelids growing heavy, her body sliding downwards into the pull of sleep.

\- 0 -

Edward still stood guard outside. Bella needed to sleep. Everyone whose eyes had seen her acknowledged that, but she’d fought it all day long. Now that her mother had left, he couldn’t see Bella in her thoughts, but he could at least hear her heartbeat slowing as it moved into the first stages of rest.

Finally.

He breathed his own sigh of relief.

She gave too much of herself. And now that she was a mother, she would need to learn balance. He wasn’t sure she could, not without help.

And who would do that?

Not her parents, certainly. She’d so clearly outgrown the pull of their parental reach long ago.

He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind.

It was up to her, not him. He’d left, he reminded himself.

He forced himself to focus on what he was hearing, smelling, seeing from others. All was well, as far as he could see. She was settling into a deep sleep.

He opened his mind to the sounds of Bella’s baby, also asleep. Her dreams were singularly focused. He smiled. She loved and trusted in her mother already, wordless as it was.

But it was this focus that made his smile fall. The thoughts were becoming erratic, and the heart rate too.

Was she—?

He didn’t wait to hear, but sped through the cover of the dark, sliding unnoticed down the maternity hallway and into Bella’s room.

The baby’s silence made him start, and picking her up gently in one arm, he used two fingers to begin the tiniest of chest compressions. Her heart began beating again quickly, the rhythm ticking up to where it should be. Her small cry made him smile in relief.

“Edward?”

He stopped, still holding Bella’s baby in his arms. He’d been so focused that he hadn’t heard her stir. He wondered briefly if perhaps she was talking in her sleep. Turning, he saw her eyes were wide open. She was sitting stiffly upright, hands partially outstretched.

She looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

Felt as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Press the blue button,” he said softly, bringing over the baby, who was now turning her head side-to-side and mewling, volume growing. “She stopped breathing,” he said.

Bella still didn’t move.

“The blue button, Bella. Press it.”

She stared at him. She hadn’t moved yet.

When he put the baby in her arms, she startled and cried out, “Oh my God!”

_ He felt so real. _

Edward stiffened, keeping his hands on the baby until he was sure she was safe in Bella’s grip, and because Bella had not responded to his direction, he smacked his hand into the blue button beside her bed.

Then he was gone, and the room was suddenly bright and full of too many people.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	5. Visitors

Posted 2019-11-02: Many, many thanks to chayasara for beta-ing.

* * *

When all the specialists, nurses, doctors, and their various hangers-on had finally left the room, assured and assuring Bella that the baby was fine, she kept her daughter in her arms, nestling the small body into her elbow’s crook. She stuffed an extra pillow against the bedrail so that Sarah—yes, she’d decided—wouldn’t fall through the spaces there.

The nurse had raised a dubious eyebrow watching Bella make this precarious nest but lowered the bed as far as it would go and stuck one of the camp mats they kept for spouses underneath it. She sincerely hoped it wasn’t necessary and shook her head at Bella’s worry.

“You did hear her stop breathing in the bassinet, right?”

Bella had only flushed an angry red, adding, “I’d prefer not to have to risk it twice.”

The nurse didn’t bother pointing out again that she was risking smothering the baby or having her fall, a far greater risk, and left.

Bella and Sarah spent an awkward night in the bed getting acquainted with each other’s bodies and movements.

When Kerry arrived for the twenty-four hour check, she frowned, watching Bella squirming as Sarah nursed.

“Here,” she said, folding a heated blanket and putting it over Bella’s lower abdomen.

Bella relaxed a little.

“Nursing looks like it’s going okay,” she said, watching the baby.

“Sure,” Bella said, not so certainly.

“Cramps?” Kerry asked.

Bella nodded, and Kerry gave a small sigh. “Some pain medication really would help. You don’t have anything to prove here, Bella.”

“It’s not that,” Bella replied softly, wincing a bit through the words.

Kerry was surprised to see the sting of tears.  _ Surely, it couldn’t be hurting that much? _ But Bella’s next words dispelled her misunderstanding.

“Call it . . . active pain management.” She smiled grimly through the tears. “Being able to focus on a small pain makes a big one . . . easier.”

Kerry only nodded, knowing she was powerless to do more. “Bella,” she said, finishing up with her last checks. “Would you like me to arrange for you to see one of the counsellors here or the hospital chaplain, just to talk with someone?”

“No,” Bella said, “but . . . thank you.” She shook her head. “I’m . . . fine.”

Edward had not left the hospital grounds since the night before, and his face was an exaggerated copy of Bella’s, painted in distress and then disbelief. Already worried about Bella’s well-being, he was even more so now. He scuffed at a pine-cone by his foot, finally kicking it behind him into the forest that banked the hospital. His eyes never left the curtained window to Bella’s room.

She wanted to suffer, so she didn’t have to . . . suffer? He wracked his mind, dredging up all their time together. Had that been something she’d done before? Was she unwell mentally, suffering under the strain of losing Jacob and then the ordeal of the birth so soon after? Would Carlisle be able to tell from a safe distance? He fretted over this, listening further.

The midwife had left, and the nurses arrived. “All right, do you want to have a shower?” one of them asked, helping Bella stand up.

“Please,” Bella said. “I’d like to head home clean.”

She was going home today?  Edward thought.  Already?

“Oh, there’s no rush, dear,” the older nurse said. “It never hurts to stay another night and get some help if you need it.”

“Hmm,” Bella said noncommittally. She was sliding off her robe, and Edward gasped at her back. He could see the clean outlines of bones.

She was so thin. Too thin.

He’d seen that she’d lost weight, but this. No, not this. The excess water women carried in pregnancy could mask weight loss, but he hadn’t expected so much.

He skipped to the mind of the other nurse who was holding the baby—Sarah, he corrected himself. He smiled every time he thought of her, watching her little eyes trying to focus. She smiled, too, when people held her. Definite smiles with definite good intent, Edward thought.

He hadn’t paid attention to babies before. They were of no consequence to him. But Bella’s baby. She was worth every speck of attention he could spare.

It was a delight to him that she could tell the nurse wasn’t her mother.  _ She was bright _ , he thought, grinning. Her mind was open, absorbing everything, lost in the grainy textures around her, the warmth of the nurse’s body, and the sounds of the water. She liked the watery sounds. She was remembering her first bath, which she hadn’t liked as much as being held.

Bella was not long showering, and Edward was glad to be able to switch back to the other nurse, now that Bella was dressed.

“Ah, she’s hungry again. Here,” the younger nurse said, giving Sarah back to Bella.

Through the nurse’s eyes, Edward saw dark circles under Bella’s eyes . She hadn’t slept well, and she should really have someone helping her at night. Would her parents do so when she was home?

“You should try to eat something,” Pam, the older nurse, was saying.

_ Good _ , thought Edward. She at least had eyes for the obvious.

“Maybe later,” Bella said, utterly focused on Sarah.

_ Oh crud _ , Pam thought. The younger nurse had left, and Pam was taking Bella’s blood pressure, a bit on the low side, but to be expected.

This was added to the list of things Edward did not like. She would get dizzy more easily. They should have her on an IV at the very least, helping stabilize that pressure.

“You need to take care of yourself before you can really take care of your baby,” Pam said softly, worrying over this very young mother. _S_ _ he was what, twenty? So young. Her boyfriend had died too _ _._ “I’m just going to leave this here,” she added, putting the tray and a fork where Bella could reach it. “Do you want something more than water to drink?” she offered. “A soda?”

“Please,” Bella said, “whatever you’ve got would be great.”

She likes cola, Edward thought.  Why won’t she just say that?

“All right, ” Pam said, “let me see what we have.”

She returned a few minutes later. Edward could see the food was still untouched.

Ah ,  at least she’d brought a cola. Bella would drink that.

Pam stayed longer than normal, eyeing her watch from time to time but engaging Bella in conversation, gently imparting information about general baby care and some sound parental advice. She was keeping an eye on how the nursing was going, not liking the frequent wincing. She didn’t approve of Bella’s refusal of pain medication.

Edward added her to the list of people he approved of.

He felt relieved when he heard Charlie’s muted thoughts and Renée’s more animated ones, as they walked together towards Bella’s room. He was glad of their conflict-free relationship. They weren’t friendly, but they were at least considerate of each other and their daughter.

“Thanks again for the ride, Charlie,” she was saying. “I’ll call the rental company and see what they can do today.”

Charlie was happy, about to see Bella, see the baby.

Renée was wondering if she’d settled on a name.

“Hey, kiddo,” Charlie called, smiling at her, relieved she wasn’t nursing. He knew he was going to have to get used to that, but still.

“How is sweetie pie today?” Renée cooed, holding out her arms hopefully.

“She’s good now,” Bella said, “but we had a bit of a scare last night.”

Their minds went blank with shock when she explained, and they looked at each other, horrified.

“I’ll spend the night here,” Charlie said, frowning, feeling his own heart race. He remembered his own terror just at holding Bella as a baby, and to think—thank God she’d heard the baby stop breathing.

“Why don’t we spend the night at home?” Bella countered. “You know, not here?”

This worried Renée and Charlie even more. “Sweetie, she—if that happened, are you sure you want to be home?”

“She’s fine,” she said. “The doctor said it’s rare, and that it’d be incredibly unlikely to happen again.”

“Unlikely?” Renée said in disbelief. “Honey, no. You seriously can’t—”

“I want to go home,” Bella said, firmly. “I’m fine. She’s fine. There’s no reason to stay . . . ”

Edward’s head whipped up, distracted by this exchange, smelling the distinct odour of . . . dog.

He could hear Billy Black’s excited thoughts and other, more curious ones.

_ I wonder if she’ll be a wolf, too? _

Leah, he realized.

Of all the people to bring Billy to visit Bella. An odd choice.

As they approached the room, Billy’s excitement was being overshadowed by worry. He was afraid he would cry. And he really didn’t want to, not in front of anyone.

“Billy!” Bella said, her own voice choked with emotion.

He could barely speak, seeing her, seeing the baby. Edward had to shove his thoughts away, switching back to Leah’s more sedate ones.

Renée still held Sarah, and she slipped her into his arms, “Say hi to your other grandpa.”

Billy’s face wobbled with emotion, and he swallowed, curling his hands around Sarah.

Leah was moving casually around the room, scenting carefully. She looked at the bassinet and then at Bella and then back again. Bella said nothing, still watching Billy.

Leah would talk later to Sam. She’d heard via Billy about the doctor, but there were two scents here, both burning her nose.

The bubble of the conversation in the room was soft and congenial. Sparks of worry flew here and there with Bella still pressing to go home. Edward listened, intently.

“Why don’t I stay the night, Bella,” Leah said, looking at her. “It sounds like everyone here would feel better if you had one more night, hey?”

There was a babble of agreement with this sentiment, and Edward could see Bella relax with this suggestion. "Okay,” she said, “but just one more night. Then I want to take her home.”

Charlie nodded.

Renée was pressing Bella, trying to get her to eat, but it was Leah who looked at the tray and said, “Do you seriously expect her to eat that? Geez, get the woman some real food.”

Bella laughed. How refreshing to have Leah there. So forthright. Her usual bitterness seemed to have been left behind, and Bella felt lighter for her presence. It reminded her of Jacob, and she made herself stay with the happy thought, curving away from the sad corner threatening to derail the moment.

“You know,” Bella said, “pizza would not go amiss right now,” and looked at Charlie, eyebrows up.

“Sounds good,” he said, and pulled out his phone, making the call.

Edward’s attention lingered on the thoughts of the little room’s occupants, taking in the many ways they saw the woman he loved. He’d felt relieved, watching her finally eat something. Of course, it was not enough, but it was something. He was also heartened that she accepted some help. Sue seemed to be the one she let in the most, and Edward hoped their friendship would grow.

When everyone else left, Leah made a bed in the corner of the room, with a good view of the door, and then watched, sleep far from her mind.

They didn’t talk about the previous night’s visitor. Through Leah’s eyes, Edward watched Bella’s body language soften and relax. Clearly, Leah’s presence helped. 

He listened with greater interest to Leah’s other musings: She wondered which of the Cullens had come and why Bella had allowed them near her baby.

No girl would suffer her fate, not if she could help it. Leah would keep the Cullens far from Jacob’s baby, if she had any say.

His perfect attention had no difficulty dividing itself, one part scrutinizing every movement in Bella’s hospital room, the other considering the implications of Leah’s thoughts. A dangerous hope had begun to flutter in his chest, and the words in Leah’s mind swatted at it, but couldn’t quite reach it enough to bat it from the air.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	6. Home

“Bella,” Kerry said, “I just need to have the doctor come sign your discharge, okay?”

“Sure,” Bella said, still in bed, impatient to be gone. Charlie was finishing with the paperwork. The carseat sat on the floor, awaiting its first occupant.

“Hi,” Dr. Carr said, knocking with his left hand. “Sorry, you get the gimpy doctor today,” he said, smiling, waving his casted hand.

Bella felt a twinge of sympathy. She’d had enough broken bones and casts in her life to know the special misery he was experiencing.

“S’okay,” she said softly. “Sorry you got hurt on my account,” she added. He  _ had _ been running in to help her.

Outside, Edward snorted. The man was utterly undeserving of her sympathy, especially given what he was thinking.

“Breastfeeding going okay so far?” Dr. Carr asked, gently running his hand over Sarah, checking her reflexes.

Bella nodded.

“Good,” he said, looking at her.

Edward stiffened. He was used to the stray thought of doctors for the occasional patient, but this man was utterly odious. Edward could see Bella blushing under the man’s gaze, looking away from him to Sarah.

The midwife was growing uncomfortable, watching too.

“Do you have a current birth control prescription?” Dr. Carr asked, looking up from the checklist.

The blush paled to a startling pallor, and Edward could see Bella swallow, watching from the midwife’s thoughts.  _ Why couldn’t he just read the case notes like all the other doctors? _ Kerry wished, groaning internally.

Bella cleared her throat. “I won’t need one,” she said softly.

Dr. Carr bumbled on. “I’m not suggesting you need one today, but it’s better to have something on hand,” and he gestured to the baby, “unless you’re keen for another one?”

Bella’s face had moved on from the grief that had surprised her to a firmer anger. “I said, I won’t need one.”

Dr. Carr had finally skimmed the case notes and blushed. “Oh,” he mumbled, “of course. I’m sorry.”

Bella closed her eyes and hoped this would be over soon.

Edward was watching the rapid progression of memories swirling through Kerry’s head. When Bella had come to term, she’d asked about how to naturally bring labour on, and Kerry had smiled at her client, wrly commenting that the best way to get a baby out was to do what had put it there in the first place. Bella and Jacob had both blushed deeply and then looked awkwardly at the floor. Seeing their reaction, Kerry had wondered why. She’d prodded at the subject gently when alone with Bella, who had explained that they weren't being intimate and hadn’t been since she’d gotten pregnant. It had been an awkward and stilted conversation for Bella, and Kerry had been left with the sense that something had gone awry in what seemed like an otherwise loving relationship. She wasn’t sure what the issue was but didn’t need to know and had shelved her curiosity with a firm sense of professionalism.

“We just need to see you put your baby in the car seat next,” the doctor said, still reading through the file notes.

Bella slid off the bed, and Kerry lifted the seat up to where she’d sat. “It’s easier on you to work at waist height,” she said softly.

“Actually,” Dr. Carr said, “you really shouldn’t. It makes for a greater chance of the baby falling,” and he put the carseat back on the floor.

Edward had a whole new level of respect for the midwife, who kept her face impassive.

Dr. Carr watched Kerry smugly, happy to have asserted his authority. Again.

He still hadn’t forgiven her since the last time they’d tangled.

_ Oh _ , Edward thought angrily, seeing what had happened. Then he imagined the different ways he could arrange for the man to break his other hand.

The midwife’s mistrust of the doctor was well founded.

Edward was glad that Carlisle would be resuming work there soon. The women of Forks would be better off for it.

Sweating from the effort of squatting and buckling the baby in, Bella stood shakily while the doctor checked the harness.

“You’re good to go,” he said. “See you back in about two weeks to get your stitches out.” 

_ Like hell _ , Edward thought.

Through Kerry's eyes, Edward could see by the expression on Bella's face that her thoughts were not far from his.

“What are you doing standing up?” Charlie asked, pushing a wheelchair into the room. He looked accusingly at the midwife, who looked sideways at Dr. Carr. “Sit,” he said to Bella, picking up her bag and hooking the car seat over his arm.

“I’ll hold her, Dad,” Bella said, and wrapped her arms awkwardly around the car seat.

“I’ll come check on you tomorrow, Bella, okay?” Kerry said. “Call me if you need anything—anytime.” She looked at Charlie, her expression showing the same applied to him too.

“Thank you, Kerry,” Charlie said, and wheeled Bella away.

“Thank God,” she whispered, smelling the fresh air from the door. She hated hospitals, and this stay hadn’t engendered any more love for them.

“Wish I felt the same way,” he said, anxious about her going home so soon. Renée had stayed in the hospital for a week with Bella. “You gotta blanket on her?” he asked, fussing for a moment, tucking it in around Sarah.

“Yes, Grandpa.” Bella smiled. “I think I can handle that.”

Charlie harrumphed. “I’m too young to be a grandpa. She can call me Papa. Billy can take Grandpa.”

Bella giggled. “Didn’t know you were so vain.”

“I’m going to be the cool grandpa. Billy can handle the wise and sage part.”

She tried really hard not to laugh at this but couldn’t quite stop herself. Charlie smiled, hearing it.

By the time they pulled up to the house, Bella was beginning to understand why everyone had wanted her to stay longer at the hospital. She felt woozy, slightly nauseated, and very, very sore in multiple places.

Edward had discretely followed them home on foot, perching in a tree in the woods behind Bella’s house. He couldn’t see into her room, but he could hear her and Charlie’s voices well enough. 

Charlie carried Sarah inside, and then returned for her things. He came back to help Bella up the porch stairs and into the living room, settling her on the couch where he’d set a blanket and a pillow before leaving.

“Welcome home little one,” he said to Sarah, taking her out of the carseat. Then his nose wrinkled. “Oh!”

“Does she need to be changed?” Bella asked, starting to stand up.

“Lie down!” Charlie barked. “I got this.”

Bella stayed on the couch but fretted, hearing Sarah crying. “Where are the clothes?” Charlie called from upstairs.

“Top drawer of my dresser,” she called back.

“Did she have a bath?” she asked, as Charlie brought her back.

“Oh yeah,” he said.

“I can take care of her,” she said, frowning a bit.

“Yes,” Charlie said, “you can—when you’ve recovered. It’s only been a few days. You need to rest.”

She didn’t like being so dependent, and she was starting to feel restless and anxious about imposing on everyone else.

Charlie could see it and was glad Renée was still in town. “So, Sue’s gonna be here in a bit, and we’ll have dinner. She’ll spend the night, and then your mom’ll be here tomorrow.”

Bella nodded, determined not to ask for help during the night if she could avoid it. Sue needed her sleep, after all, with work and her own children—mostly grown, but still.

Dinner was quiet, and Bella was tired. When Charlie offered to help her up the stairs, she didn’t object. Nor did she object when Sue offered to hold the baby so Bella could get changed.

They’d rearranged the furniture slightly in Bella’s room, clearing the top of the low dresser to make room for a changing pad and shifting the bed so she could have the bassinet right beside it. The rocking chair remained in the same place though, and Charlie had smiled, watching Sue sit in it with Sarah.

“Guess that makes you an honorary grandma.” He smiled softly at her, a hand on her shoulder.

She had almost said, “Oh no,” protesting feeling that old but stopped herself. Instead, she said, “I’d be honoured to be called that, but, well,” she smiled up at him, “you should check with Renée first. And Bella, too.”

“Sure,” he said, “if you think so,” and kissed her.

Bella caught the tail end of it and hid her smile as she walked into the room. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“Oh,” Sue said, suddenly thinking of something. “Did you get what you needed from downstairs?”

“No,” Bella said, remembering. “It’s fine, really,” she said, waving off Sue.

“Like heck it is,” she grumbled back at her, handing the baby to Charlie. With that, Sue rumbled down the stairs and back up again quickly. She handed the cold plastic bag to Bella with a “Go,” pointing her toward the bathroom.

Charlie looked down at Sarah, pointedly not acknowledging what Sue had handed his daughter.

Sue patted his shoulder comfortingly. “You’re doing beautifully, Charlie.”

Edward laughed louder than he should have.

Sue was remembering the tear-filled, hysterical laughter that had accompanied Bella’s telling her about this. She’d been getting things ready for the birth a few weeks before her due date, which included wetting and freezing sanitary pads. The freezer in the kitchen was small, though, and Charlie had pulled one of them out, thinking it was a popsicle. Bella had been there to watch the hilarity.

Charlie was very careful when he opened the freezer these days.

“I know,” Charlie said to her. “I’m awesome. You can just say it.”

Sue slipped her arms around him, their positions now reversed, Charlie in the rocking chair, holding Sarah, and Sue standing over him. “Actually, you are. Really. How many dads would be there watching their daughter give birth? And you did. Now you just need to get a handle on the breastfeeding.”

Bella had returned again.

“We all have our limits,” he said, smiling and handing Bella the baby. “We’ll let you get some sleep.” Before he left though, he pulled a whistle out of his pocket. “Here,” he said. “We’ll be listening for you, but if we don’t hear you, or it’s an emergency, we won’t miss this.” He set it on the bedside table, and tapped the phone, “The ringer’s off.”

“You are awesome, Dad. Thank you.” She kissed him before climbing into bed, carefully putting Sarah into the bassinet.

Charlie and Sue retreated downstairs quietly, leaving her to sleep.

For Bella, it was blissful just to be in her own bed again and even better to be able to sleep on her stomach.

Sue and Charlie headed to bed early, too, and it wasn’t long before Edward was able to slip into Bella’s room, taking great care to close the window quickly and quietly. He didn’t want either Bella or Sarah to get cold.

He was right to worry, too. Sarah had instinctively kicked off the loose swaddle of her blanket, arms laid back above her head, seemingly surrendered to sleep. Edward carefully and slowly placed the blanket back on top of her, frowning when she kicked it off again almost immediately. That wouldn’t do. He wondered if he could risk picking her up, swaddling her, and putting her back again or if it would wake her.

He decided to wait, watching her settle again into a deeper rhythm of sleep. Babies, he remembered, had shorter sleep cycles. He wouldn’t have to wait long.

Bella, however, had kicked off all her covers, too, sweating and hot, even in the relative cool of the room.

_ Was she unwell? _ She was overly warm, he could tell, holding his hand just over her. He sniffed carefully, feeling the familiar burn in his throat. Manageable, he determined, but he was still more conscious of it than he wanted to be.

He would need to hunt, and soon, and he would need someone to watch her.

He needed to make amends with his family also.

But that would wait. He could last a few more days.

The smells he caught were different. Sarah’s smells and Bella’s but something else, too, something he didn’t like. He moved closer, trying to pinpoint it over the overwhelming odour of her blood.

_ Ah _ , he thought, feeling a spasm of worry when he spotted the source of it.  _ No wonder she was hot. _

He frowned.

She’d fed the baby before she went to sleep several hours ago. He looked at Sarah. She would need to eat soon and not just for her own sake.

Should he wake the baby up or let her sleep until she was ready?

_ No _ , he thought, _ best to wake her. _

He opened the window just enough so he could leave quickly and then picked Sarah up, swaddling her against the coolness of his hands. He rubbed her forehead and cheeks, hoping his temperature would be enough to wake her, but as he did, he cradled her closer to him, taking in her smell—so much like her mother’s, but not—along with her gentle warmth. In her sleep, she smiled a beautiful toothless grin and gurgled, and he smiled back. He found himself wanting just to hold her, to hear her beautiful, simple thoughts, to watch the magic of her tiny self unfurl. She was beginning to stir though, and sighing, he placed her carefully back in the bassinet, just as her first cries were beginning.

Bella didn’t move, and Edward stopped at the window. He waited, hearing Sarah mewling. Bella must be sicker than he’d initially thought. Suddenly, though, he heard sounds from Charlie’s room and then Sue’s soft footsteps.

He was gone, the window closed. He stood well hidden in the woods, listening.

“Bella, honey?” Sue called. He could hear her rubbing Bella’s back. “Bella?” she said, growing more alarmed.

“Hmm,” Bella said, still not getting up.

“Charlie!” Sue called, her voice more urgent.

There was a stumbling and then Edward could hear Charlie’s voice. “Whu?” he said, his hands rough over his face.

“Bella’s sick. She’s not waking up.”

“Hey, Bella,” Charlie said, touching her forehead. “Whoa. Okay. Midwife?”

“Think so,” Sue said, picking up the phone.

Edward wished the midwife was faster, wished he could be inside with her too, wished Sue would keep her eyes on Bella so he could at least see her.

“Thanks for coming,” Charlie said, opening the door to Kerry.

She was concerned that they couldn’t rouse Bella. “Oh, Charlie. I hate to do this, but she needs to be admitted. I’m thinking this is mastitis, but it might be something else.” She sighed.

“An ambulance?” he said, as Kerry made a call. 

“She’s not waking up, and I don’t want to risk the stairs,” Kerry said. “Do you have formula?” she asked.

Charlie shook his head.

“The hospital will have some. Do you have a diaper bag ready to go?”

Charlie shook his head again.

“I’ll get it,” Sue said. “You go back to bed. I’ll call Renée.”

This made Charlie frown. He started to open his mouth.

“You have work tomorrow, Charlie. You said you couldn’t miss it, big coordinating meeting and everything? Remember?”

He sighed, his eyebrows knitting together.

Edward could hear the many conflicts in his thoughts.

“Renée and I will take care of them. We’ll be fine,” she said. “Two grandmas. Remember?”

“Thank you,” he said, leaning in to kiss her.

“They’re here,” Kerry said, and very soon, Charlie was watching the paramedics carry Bella away, Sue following with the baby in her car.

Edward followed again, his worry located squarely on Bella’s well-being. His concern was abandoned in a heartbeat, however, when he crossed a familiar scent, one he’d sought to eliminate when he left Bella two years earlier: Victoria’s.


	7. And back again

Posted: 2019-11-10; Many thanks to the comma-slaying chayasara over on fanfiction.net for wielding her beta-ing skills in this story's favour.

* * *

“Please,” Edward said, “for Bella. Please.”

“Stay at the hospital, Edward,” Alice said, her voice heavy. “I don’t see anything going wrong with Charlie, but I’ll watch, just in case.”

He breathed out in relief. “Thank you, Alice. I know you love her, and I know you’re doing this for her.”

“You haven’t got a clue how I feel, Edward, and the last two years are testament enough to it.” Then she hung up.

_ They’ll be safe _ , he told himself. That was all that mattered. He could deal with everything else later.

Now he just needed to make sure Bella was well.

Sarah did not like the formula Sue was trying to give her. Not at all. She was revolted by the taste, accepting it only as the nipple offered her few other choices.

He felt sympathy for her. From her thoughts he understood that it was much like how he felt with his current diet. It filled him, but there was nothing close to satisfaction, and for Sarah, it did so with revulsion.

The doctor and midwife were sure of mastitis, but there was worry about another infection, and Edward grew angry, hearing the resident’s thoughts.  _ He wouldn’t, would he? _

Kerry stayed and was making sure that the resident wouldn’t, not until Bella was awake. “Give the antibiotics time to work,” she said, hoping the doctor didn’t have his head so far up his ass as to have missed his class on informed consent.

“Compresses?” the young man asked, eyebrows up.

“Yes,” Kerry said and smiled mechanically, bringing over a stack of hot, wet towels. She was silently wondering,  _ Did they teach them anything in medical school?  _ “These hot cloths and a nursing baby usually do the trick.”

“The antibiotics pass into the breastmilk,” he countered.

“Yes,” Kerry said sweetly, her mind full of frustration with his ignorance, “but only in the smallest amounts. And, considering it helps the mother and keeps the child fed, it’s a win-win.”

The resident shrugged and said, “You’re signing off on it, so it’s your funeral, lady.”

She gritted her teeth, and Edward did too. Carlisle couldn’t start work again soon enough. He’d agreed to start two days from now. Perhaps he’d like a shift tomorrow. He would call later.

Kerry left the small cubicle in the emergency room and brought Sue back with the baby.

“I’m not sure if she’s hungry. I gave her a bottle when we got here.” Sue sounded worried, wondering if she’d done the right thing.

“That’s okay. It’s better to keep her fed than not.” Kerry smiled at her, grateful that Bella had family, if not a partner, in this.  _ What a rough start though _ , she thought,  _ in so many ways _ .

The night wore on, and between Kerry’s work and Sarah’s appetite, the engorgement and mastitis began to clear.

Bella finally became lucid in the early morning, the fever down considerably. She was startled to find herself in the hospital along with the company of her own mother. “What happened?” she asked, and suddenly, frantically, “Where’s Sarah?”

“She’s right here,” Renée said, picking her up out of her carseat and putting her in Bella’s arms. “She’s fine. You, however, are another story.”

Bella had shifted at this point and understood. Her chest felt like it was on fire. “What—?”

“Mastitis, which Sue assures me, is no fun.” Renée frowned, watching Bella wince. “Here,” she said, taking Sarah back, “let me go tell them you’re awake. They’ll want to check on you.”

“How did I get here?” Bella asked.

“In an ambulance.”

“And I slept through that?”

“You had a really high fever, honey. Sue said you were pretty out of it. She left not too long ago to go get some sleep. Oh, and your dad called and wanted to know how you were. I said you were on the mend, and you are. That midwife of yours is something else. She was here most of the night—”

And Renée was off on a detailed running commentary, explaining all that Sue had told her.

Edward had managed to convince Carlisle to volunteer for the morning shift, and Edward could hear in his thoughts the thrum of the hospital’s rhythms.

“Dr. Cullen,” one of the nurses said, “bed four is awake. Can you go check on her?”

“I’m not quite on shift yet,” he said, knowing exactly who was there, trying to avoid making Bella uncomfortable.

"Okay,” she said, shrugging, “I’ll see if Dr. Carr is free.”

Carlisle stopped. “Oh,” he said, “Dr. Carr’s already taxed as it is. I’ll just . . . go check.”

As he approached the door, he relaxed slightly. The other visitors present would at least diffuse the discomfort his presence would bring. He would also be sparing Bella the unpleasantness Dr. Carr seemed to spread around. He had heard enough from the other hospital staff to wonder how the man had avoided a malpractice suit so far.

Bella’s face fell as he entered, and Renée raised her eyebrows while simultaneously blowing out a breath.  _ Talk about awkward. _

“Hi, Bella,” Carlisle said, and waited for a response.

“Hi,” she said, keeping control of her expression.

“Sounds like you’re having a rough go of it,” he said softly, pretending to clear his throat. “I understand Dr. Carr discharged you. He’s here. Would you like me to get him?”

Bella’s expression deflated further. Carlisle really was the only decent choice. Through Carlisle’s eyes, Edward watched Bella look at her baby. He wondered how much she had gathered about Dr. Carr. Her reaction showed that she didn’t want much to do with him. 

“No,” Bella finally said. “Thank you for coming.”

Renée was obviously not convinced of Carlisle’s merits picked up Sarah with a curt, “I’ll just go change her diaper, all right?”

“Don’t be gone too long?” Bella said.

“I’ll be as quick as I can,” Renée assured her.

\- 0 -

To Bella, Carlisle appeared the consummate professional, and she resented him for the professional mask he seemed to so easily don. She watched him run through what she recognized now as routine checks. “You’ve got a very good midwife,” he said softly, nodding at the chart notes Kerry had left and then at Bella. 

Bella returned the gesture, trying to avoid talking. She felt more emotions this time with Carlisle, all of them dangerously close to the surface. She had pieced together that he wasn’t just visiting at this point. And if he was here, the rest of them likely were too. The wound, so well healed by Jacob, had been sliced open by his death, and now, it was as if someone was poised to rip off the scab, and resurrect the pain.

She knew that Carlisle was avoiding touching her. She supposed this made sense, given her reaction the other day. When he asked her to check for any tender spots on her breasts, she turned a florid pink. She was still uncomfortable with and embarrassed by these natural but unpredictable shifts in her body. The added medical scrutiny from Carlisle, of all people, wasn’t helping.

When Carlisle looked up, it drew Bella’s gaze too. 

“Flowers, for you,” he said softly, as if to himself. He walked to the door and opened it, taking the peculiar bouquet and thanking the deliveryman.

As he closed the door, Bella watched him eye the strange arrangement, pinching something rapidly between his fingers. She didn’t see what it was, but the tiny, tell-tale sound made her shiver. 

“What was that?” she asked.

Carlisle carefully set the vase on a shelf far away from her bed. “A very young rattlesnake,” he said, pulling out the small card that was nestled in between the dried flowers and thistles.

Renée returned at this point, and Bella saw Carlisle pull the small card from the bouquet. 

“Oh,” Renée said, “who sent these? How unusual!” she said, fingering a flower.

Bella looked at Carlisle. When Renée turned away, he shook his head slightly. Bella understood she was safe— for now. She took the card he offered her and opened it slowly. She knew who the flowers were from before even reading the text: “I think of you both all the time, and I can’t wait to meet the baby. See you soon. Victoria.” Bella put the card down before it betrayed her shaking hand.

“Who’s Victoria?” Renée asked, looking over her daughter’s shoulder. “One of your college friends?”

“One of Edward’s friends,” Carlisle said softly. Then he smiled, his charming, eye-commanding smile. 

Bella watched Renée’s face crumple in concern and then confusion, but Carlisle’s voice invited compliance. “I’ve got just a few things left to do here. Perhaps you can give Bella and me a moment?”

When Renée left again with Sarah, she waited for him to speak.

“You’ll be safe,” he began.

She could tell from the set of his face that the words held both promise and worry. 

“No one will hurt you or those you love.”

Bella had to close her eyes. She couldn’t quite face the world, not with this heavy train of thought. “Are you—are you all back?”

“Yes,” he said, “all of us.”

Her breath rattled in through her nose, taking in his full meaning, and her hands snaked around her midsection. If it wouldn’t have hurt, she would have curled up into herself against the assault of those words.

They were all back.

She forced her eyes open and stared at him. Was that guilt on his face? It was so hard to tell, but she wanted to imagine she saw it there.

“How can we make this easier for you, Bella?”

Of all the reactions she expected in herself, laughter was not one of them. She sat up, the hysterical wrack of it rocking her body. “You’re asking—now?” she said, shaking her head. The dark humour twisted, though, the shaking becoming something else—anger, grief. She wasn’t sure herself. “Did he send you to make sure I’m completely fucked up?” Then a horrific speculation made her eyes and mouth grow wide. “Did he—” and she closed her eyes against the speculation. “Is Jacob dead because—?”

“No!” Carlisle said. “Of course not!”

Bella eyed him for the better part of a minute as if assessing his truthfulness. She nodded, still thinking, processing so many things. Her arm had slipped back around her stomach.

“Does Sam know?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” he said.

She didn’t want to know since when. It might be too painful.

Then, in a small voice that broke over the words, she asked, “Does Alice want to see me?” The tears were abrupt. She expected the answer to be no. She wouldn’t have asked had the misery of the last month not been so excruciating.

“Of course,” Carlisle said. The manner in which he spoke seemed to indicate the desire for more words, but he closed his mouth, eyebrows nudging together in what seemed to be worry. 

She nodded, looking down, not able to say anything else.

“Shall I have her come see you today?” he asked softly.

Bella’s head dipped affirmatively again, the tears free on her cheeks.

“Okay,” he said softly, scribbling numbers down on a page and setting it beside the bed. “If you need to reach any of us, please do.”

She looked at the small paper, noting that Edward’s name was absent from the list, still a ghost. Perhaps the “all” did not encompass him?

“May I?” he asked, fingers poised over Victoria’s note.

Her nod was curt. She had no desire to keep the woman’s poison—words or otherwise.

“Are you ready for your mother?” he asked, an ear cocked to the hallway.

WIth a deep breath in and then out, she tested a soft “Yes.”

He opened the door, and Renée and the staff nurse filtered back in, chatting between themselves, trying to give Bella an additional moment to wipe her face.

“So, I’m done here, and I’m afraid I’ll need to take these out of the room,” Carlisle said apologetically, picking up the vase. “Fresh flowers are allowed, but dried ones aren’t, unfortunately.”

“That’s fine,” Bella said, still finding her voice.

She watched Carlisle slip from the room, wondering what other surprises the day would bring. She tried her best to focus on the new normalcy of her baby, curled tightly in her arm, a wedge against the dark shadows she knew were sliding into her life.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	8. A Reckoning

Alice relieved Edward at the hospital and then sent him to hunt.

He left reluctantly and returned far too quickly for her liking.  _ Oh, no you don’t, _ she thought.  _ You need to go home and face this mess you’ve made. You are done avoiding  _ that _ reckoning. _

When he opened his mouth to protest, he met an angry wall of thought.

_ SHE’LL BE FINE. As if I would let  _ anything _ happen to her. _

Edward was undeterred.

_ GO! _ She hissed silently. Menacing visions of what Alice would do if he didn’t comply assaulted him.

_ Good,  _ she thought, seeing his surly compliance.

His family was waiting for him, seated around their oval dining room table, Carlisle uneasy at its head. 

Rosalie filled the silent space with a hissed string of recriminations. Esme worried over the discord in the family but also for Bella’s well-being. Emmett was eyeing Rose nervously, and Jasper was simply angry, angry with Edward. His choices had hurt Alice and cost her a friend.

Forgiveness was far away.

Edward wanted to wince and run back to Bella, but Alice was right. He needed to face them.

His family had barely seen him in the last few years, and when they did, it had been separately as he tried to track Victoria in vain.

“Good thing we left.” Rose’s words were practically snarled through her teeth.

“We don’t need to rehash that choice, Rose,” Carlisle said.

Jasper came to her defense. “Yes, we do. He owes us all an apology and then some for his judgment or lack thereof.” Here he looked at Edward, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Edward knew there was no evading his faults. “Jasper’s right. I was beyond wrong, wrong to be with her in the first place and just as wrong to leave her.”

Rose couldn’t hold in her vitriol. “Oh, there we go. That makes it all better, doesn’t it?”

“Rose,” Emmett pleaded, taking her hand, “come on.”

Rose shook her head. “No. He’s exposed us again and made it worse by involving the wolves. They won’t like us being here one bit, especially being near her. And that increases the risks for all of us.”

Carlisle had to agree here. Sam had carefully controlled his fury, but just barely. The pack leader had been insulted by the assumption that help was needed and then angered by the idea of the Cullens being near Bella and Jacob’s baby. Both their presence and purpose were testing an already fragile treaty.

“We’ll stay until the threat is resolved and then make as gracious a departure as possible,” Carlisle said, looking around the table. “We’ll need to be united in order to accomplish this.”

“And Bella?” Esme asked. “Has anyone asked her what she wants?”

No one answered. They didn’t have to because they already knew the answer. 

_ I’m so glad you’ve learned from your last experience.  _ Rose sneered silently at Edward.

“She wanted to see Alice,” Carlisle said. “I’m hopeful she can help Bella see the necessity of our presence.”

Then he brought out the small envelope and card and set it on the table beside the vase of flowers he had brought from Bella’s room. 

“In the meantime, it would be helpful if all of you were aware of these.” Each family member inspected both items.

Jasper’s anger towards Edward vanished when he saw what Victoria had written, replaced by a reaction of urgent protectiveness.

Edward let a tiny flame of relief flicker in his chest.

Rose was still livid with Edward, but she made space for a special kind of rage for Victoria.  _ She threatened a baby? _

_ Of course _ , he thought, feeling stupid for not anticipating this.  _ That  _ would _ reach her. _

Edward’s hope twisted guiltily. Victoria’s special brand of ruthlessness had united his family where he could not.

On seeing the note, Esme’s thoughts and emotions were much more complex and fraught. She wanted to reach out to Bella to offer help but suspected it would only bring her pain. Esme’s suffering had been acute, knowing the harm their leaving had done to Bella.

The conversation shifted, moving to the logistics of surveillance over their various human charges and how they might expand their respective roles in their human charades.

Edward watched his family and let his tiny flicker of hope blossom into a flame.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	9. Visits

Bella woke from her nap still feeling tired and sore. Renée had taken Sarah for an inaugural walk with the baby carrier but only after Bella had micromanaged every step of putting Sarah into it.

“You know,” Renée had said, “I did manage this before, and I suspect I can do it again.”

Bella fussed with one of the straps. “Sure, Mom, but there’s enough room between my worry and your confidence for a baby to fall through, so humour me, okay?”

Renée had turned around to roll her eyes, hands still firmly on Sarah while Bella checked the last clip.

"Okay,” she’d said, satisfied everything was secure, “you’re good to go. Can you be back by—” and she squinted at the clock, “three-thirty? So I can feed her?”

“Sure. Now get some sleep, all right?”

Bella nodded, certain this would not be a problem.

She had refused to think about Victoria, refused to think about the Cullens. She’d made herself think only of Sarah and then of getting better. If the Cullens were back, she would be safe, and that was all she needed to know for the moment.

Now that she was awake and feeling marginally better, those other thoughts were getting harder to ignore. The emotions that were tangled up with them were louder still.

So, when Bella called, “Come in,” to the knock at the door, it was a shock, still, to see Alice standing there.

“Alice?” She wasn’t sure if Alice was real.

“Bella,” Alice said, her face a study in worried happiness, approaching the bed. She set down the vase of flowers in her hand, opening her arms tentatively.

“You’re really here,” Bella said, wrapping Alice in her own arms.

“Of course I am. What did you think I was?”

Bella shook her head, not wanting to explain. “I’m just . . . you’re here. It’s hard to believe.” She was trying to blink back the tears.

“Oh, Bella, I’m so sorry,” Alice said, sitting down beside her. “We didn’t want to leave. We really didn’t. He insisted. It—it’s been hard to be a family because of his demands,” she finished. 

The words sounded weak against what Bella knew they all must have felt. Words were inadequate when it came to describing what losing them had meant for her. 

“No!” Bella said, alarmed that she would be the cause of such division, “You can’t—not over me. That’s not okay.”

“And we haven’t—and it isn’t your fault, so don’t even think that. Edward has just been stupid on a level beyond description, Bella.” Alice frowned, watching Bella wince perceptibly at the name. “Stupid,” she said for emphasis, shaking her head.

It was taking Bella a few minutes to process all this. “You—” she said. “He—” She wasn’t sure how to say it.

“He’s an idiot, Bella. Let’s just leave it there.” Alice looked at Bella, frowning again. “When did you eat last?”

“I honestly can’t remember. It’s been,well, I think there’s a reason they call it mommy-brain. What day is it?” Bella asked, trying to add up the amorphous nights and days.

“Saturday,” Alice said and, for good measure, added the date, “October seventh.” She texted rapidly as she offered this information.

Bella wondered who she was contacting but didn’t want to ask, so she cast about for a safe topic. “Those smell lovely,” she said, nodding towards the flowers.

Alice grinned. “Freesia,” she said. “They reminded me of you.”

“Oh.” Bella swallowed and curled her arms around her middle. It was safe to say that the scab was completely off.

“Whoa. Hey—what’s wrong?” Alice asked, alarmed at this sudden shift.

_ Why did she start with that? _ Bella thought. She began with the obvious. “Jacob,” she began, and shrugged her shoulders, not wanting to be overwhelmed by emotion. It was foolish to hope she could avoid it.

“I know,” Alice said softly, carefully taking Bella’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Bella bobbed her head. Yes, everyone was sorry, but it still just . . . hurt. She wished her mom was back with Sarah. It was easier when she was holding her baby.

The wetness on her cheeks seemed to have spread strangely to her chest, and she looked down, confused.

“Oh!” Alice said, “I read about this!” She sounded excited, like she was watching a science experiment unfold. When she caught Bella’s look, she said, “Sorry, it’s just—well, I haven’t been around a new mom before.”

Bella was just hoping for an explanation.

“Your milk is fully coming in—and your baby is going to arrive in a few minutes because she’s really hungry, and your mom went further than she should have. Want me to stay?” Her words were shot at Bella rapidly.

Bella looked pained. Yes, she wanted Alice to stay, but she didn’t want to have to explain to her mom.

Alice spoke softly. “I can handle your mom if you want me to stay.”

Bella nodded, feeling more emotional than ever.

“Did your midwife tell you about the baby blues?” Alice asked, cocking her head to the side.

Bella shook her head in response, wiping her sleeve across her face.

“Apparently, a few days after your baby’s born, you get a huge wave of hormones and emotions. You’ll feel better soon. It was probably the worst day for Carlisle to tell you we were home.”

Bella grabbed Alice’s hand and pulled her back into a hug. “I’ve missed you so much, Alice,” she rasped.

“You too,” Alice replied, voice soft.

Renée paused at the door, taking in the scene, jiggling Sarah gently in the carrier. She’d managed to keep her granddaughter satisfied with her pinky finger, but it was getting dicey. She knocked lightly, quietly pulling Sarah out of the carrier and handing her to Bella.

“Hi, Renée,” Alice said.

“Hi, Alice,” Renée said politely. Her eyebrows knit together as she looked at Alice. Bella didn’t have to think too hard about her mother’s uncertain reception of Alice. It had not been so long ago that Bella had been near zombie-like in her grief over the Cullens’ departure. Renée cleared her throat, directing her comment to Bella. “I’m going to just run to the bathroom and then make a few phone calls. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Bella was trying to get Sarah positioned to nurse and looked up only briefly, nodding at her mother.

“Pass me that pillow, will you please, Alice?” Bella said, reaching her hand out.

Alice did, watching with some wonder.

Feeling Alice’s eyes on her, Bella looked up, blushing.

“Sorry,” Alice said, “it’s just . . . it’s really . . . beautiful.” Her eyebrows puckered a bit, and she smiled. “You’re a mom, Bella.”

Big emotions, indeed.

The reason for Alice’s early and rapid texting was soon revealed when several take-out boxes arrived from the local diner. 

“Even I know hospital food is gross, Bella,” Alice said, waving Bella’s thanks away.

Bella had had so many good wishes from her family and a few friends, but to have them from a life she’d thought gone was an extraordinary thing. She smiled at Alice, and they kept talking, her friend lingering long in the warmth that her own, supernatural existence could not provide.  


* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	10. Okay

Bella shifted in her seat on the couch. Sitting wasn’t entirely comfortable yet. She tried inching her centre of gravity slightly to her right and then to her left. Sarah’s loose arm startled at the movement, and Bella stilled herself in response, tucking Sarah’s arm back under the blanket. Her baby resettled to nurse, Bella gritted her teeth and resolved to stay sitting until Sarah was at least finished eating. Her private parts were sore and beginning to throb in protest at the position they’d been put in.

After fifteen minutes, Sarah still wasn’t finished. She pulled away from the breast, crying, and Bella set her on her shoulder, rubbing her back as she tried to coax out a burp. When Sarah did, it was with a volley of spit-up. Then she began to cry again.

Bella felt like joining her daughter. She was tired; she was stupidly sore, and the eight days since Sarah’s birth felt like a lifetime ago. Was it really just over a week?

Sarah kept crying, and after cleaning her up and checking her diaper, Bella realized that Sarah was likely still hungry. Lying down on the couch, Bella arranged several pillows so that Sarah would be at the right height to nurse side-lying. When Sarah finally latched, Bella sighed in relief. 

“There,” she said quietly, stroking Sarah’s soft hair. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

The last words came out with a tremble. She repeated them to herself silently. They would be okay.

It was sunny outside, and she had shooed Charlie and Sue out to run errands, insisting she’d be fine on her own. She needed some time to herself or as much time as she could have with her baby. Renée had been a help, but Bella had been glad to see her leave the day before. While Renée had been practical and useful, her hovering had set Bella on edge. Bella had been so used to helping her mother when they lived together that the reversal had felt unnatural, and it had been difficult to be at ease, particularly when Renée held Sarah. A constant flutter of “what ifs” plagued Bella when Sarah was in Renée’s arms. 

With Charlie and Sue gone, she had a few more hours to herself and—shoot, no, not much more sunshine to enjoy, she realized, watching the line of heavy, dark cloud edge over the treeline. She sighed. “No biggie,” she muttered to Sarah. Not that she’d planned on doing more lying in one of the chaises in the yard. Kerry had cautioned her to take it easy and not try to move too much in the first ten days. No more than three trips up and down the stairs a day had been her guideline for Bella. No outdoor walks until her stitches were out. Just a few more days, and then she could—

_ She could what, _ she asked herself,  _ Go out on the town? _

The thought made her want to cry, looking at Sarah. She loved her baby, but the radical way this very small person had changed her life had not been anything she could have anticipated. She could barely sit on her ass, let alone do much.

The tears emerged.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

_ Everything is going to be okay. Everything will be okay _ , she told herself.

The repetition didn’t make the statement feel any more real or believable, much as she wanted it to be.

It wasn’t just the transition to motherhood that she was finding difficult. She had expected it would be a tough road. But she hadn’t expected to do it without Jacob, and she certainly hadn’t expected the Cullens to arrive back in town and rip off the scab that was holding the pieces of her heart together.

Alice had made a point of coming by frequently in the last few days, and Bella had been incredibly grateful for her company. She had missed her friend so much more than she had allowed herself to admit. Alice’s humour and spark banished much of the persistent gloom against which Bella had struggled in her more distant and recent past. 

Trying to hold onto the positive thought of her friend, Bella blinked and strained at a yawn. She couldn’t fall asleep while Sarah was nursing in this position. Sarah could fall, or worse, be smothered on the uneven surface of the couch cushions.

Charlie’s, “We’re home!” made Bella startle awake what felt like seconds later. The profound darkness in the room told her much more time had passed.

Her first instinct was to clutch at Sarah’s body, right where she’d left her beside her on the couch.

But Bella’s arms were empty.

She gasped, sitting up too quickly, hissing at the sharp pain in her groin. 

“Hey, munchkin,” Charlie cooed, walking towards—oh, thank God!—Sarah, who was on her back on the floor just beside the couch, neatly swaddled in a blanket. Underneath her was a folded afghan, insulating her from the chill of the floorboards.

“I’m glad you took a nap,” Charlie said to Bella, picking up Sarah.

“Um, yeah,” Bella said, blinking. She didn’t remember putting Sarah on the floor. Reaching out a hand, she snatched up the afghan, briefly pressing it to her nose as Charlie turned away with Sarah. The smell on the thick wool blanket made her heart skip a beat.

She knew that smell.

“Oh, that could probably use a wash,” Charlie said, reaching for it.

“It’s fine,” Bella said, tightening her grip.

“It’s been on the floor,” Charlie said. He frowned. 

“Are you going to leave me to bring in all the groceries, Charlie Swan?” Sue called from the kitchen.

“Sorry,” he called to Sue, handing Sarah back to Bella. “I got distracted.”

Bella held her baby and the blanket, her more practical mind telling her that she really should wash it. The rest of her wanted to stick her nose back into it and breathe in the familiar scent, remembering what her body remembered.

“Everything is going to be okay,” she said to Sarah.

And this time, she almost believed it.


	11. Stitches

Bella sat awkwardly on the exam bed, watching Sarah sleep in her car seat and waiting for the doctor. She was uneasy on both fronts. Sarah was on the edge of needing to nurse, but Bella was hesitant to wake her as it would likely mean trying to hold her while the doctor took out the stitches. She also wasn’t sure who was going to show up. The clinic was staffed by the doctors at the hospital, and it was like a game of roulette, waiting to see who would walk in the door. She was cold under the paper blanket the nurse had handed her and rubbed her hands over her thighs, trying to stay warm.

She was also trying not to think too much about who would or wouldn’t be taking her stitches out. It wasn’t going very well.

When Dr. Carr walked in, she breathed out a small sigh of relief.

Edward, however, still vigilant under the cover of trees and shadows, did not. He grimaced, following it with an angry growl.

Staring at Edward’s text, Carlisle wondered where he could find a nice, simple obstetric emergency at which to throw Dr. Carr. Ideally it would be one that he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—mess up.

_ Hurry _ , “Come on,” muttered Edward, his anxiety growing. He cringed, seeing what was unfolding with Bella.

“I’m just going to move your baby out of the way.”

Bella’s heart clenched a little, but she immediately chastised herself for being so overprotective. When Dr. Carr plunked the car seat down none too carefully, her hand twitched in Sarah’s direction.

Dr. Carr was oblivious to her concern.

"Okay, can you scoot down a bit?” Dr. Carr lay his hand on her leg. Bella stiffened at the contact. It wasn’t necessary, and it felt inexplicably intimate.

She blushed, feeling foolish for thinking this way. He was going to take the stitches out. It was nothing to be embarrassed about.

_ Faster _ , Edward thought, scrambling mentally for another plan in case Carlisle failed.

Bella inhaled sharply at Dr. Carr’s touch. He hadn’t warned her he was about to begin, and she grimaced, trying not to react.  _ Just getting stitches out _ , she told herself.  _ No big deal. _

“So,” he said, beginning to cut the first of the stitches. “Things are going well with the baby?”

She couldn’t stop the twitch at the pain she felt.  _ Should this be hurting? _ “Fine,” she said, only just managing the pain. 

“You look great,” he said, continuing. His eyes swept up and down her body.

Bella felt another sharp pain. “Should this be—?”

The knock at the door interrupted her.

“Dr. Carr?” a nurse called, poking her head in. “You’re needed upstairs. They have a shoulder dystocia.”

_ Thank God _ , Edward thought.

Bella thought the same, wondering if the nurse would take over.

But no. She caught the dirty look Dr. Carr gave Carlisle as he walked in.

Bella closed her eyes.

Nothing happened, and she opened them again.

Carlisle was smiling at Sarah, setting her car seat closer to Bella where she could reach her if she wanted to.

He shifted his expression as he turned to Bella, his face neutral and polite.

“I think Dr. Carr was removing your stitches, yes?” he asked softly, washing his hands.

She nodded.

“All right,” he said quietly, sitting down. “You’ll feel my touch.”

Edward’s attention was fully focused on Carlisle’s thoughts: He’d smelled the blood. He’d seen what Edward had texted him, but he hadn’t quite believed it. Edward couldn’t be counted on to be objective, not where Bella was concerned. An oath was an oath, after all. Do no harm.

Bella’s start at his gentle touch confirmed for him that Edward had been right.

“This won’t hurt,” he said.

Her tensing body told him it already had.

Then he saw that Dr. Carr had cut her. 

He’d cut her.

Whereas the stitches should have been easy to remove, Dr. Carr had sliced into her flesh. Fresh sutures would be needed, and those, too, would have to be removed again later.

His professional demeanour stayed in place as he gently and quickly removed the rest of the sutures, glad to feel her relax when it became clear he wouldn’t hurt her.

“Just a moment,” he said, pulling what he needed from the drawers beside him. “It seems there are fresh cuts. I’ll need to stitch those again.”

He was glad that she didn’t realise this was unusual. Didn’t react. Wasn’t frightened.

Outside, Edward was making plans for Dr. Carr.

They weren’t good ones.

When he finished, Carlisle stepped outside while Bella dressed and then went back in with a handful of business cards.

“I wondered if you wanted to see another care provider?” he asked, holding them out to her.

She shook her head. “No, thank you.” She was blushing, obviously embarrassed by his question.

Carlisle felt awful. 

So did Edward. He imagined how horrific this was for her, seeing through Carlisle’s eyes how she was trying to keep her eyes lowered .

Carlisle knew his presence could only remind her of their rejection, and to have to rely on him for care . . . He couldn’t remember what it felt like to be vulnerable, but he could imagine, and in the moment, all he wanted was to offer her some dignity and choice.

“There are other specialists who would be glad to see you,” he said, still holding the cards out.

The blush was deepening. “The insurance won’t cover it,” she mumbled, and stood.

“I’m sure—”

“No,” she said, now a flagrant shade of red, bending over to get her bag and the car seat.

“Wait,” he said. “There’s something else that I need to talk to you about.” He paused, trying to figure out how best to phrase this. “I suspect Dr. Carr cut you. Deliberately.”

“What?” Bella asked.

“Unless something else has happened?” He turned his hands over, their open palms suggesting a multitude of possibilities.

“No,” Bella said, frowning, “there wouldn’t be anything.”

“Then, would you file a complaint? Please?” he asked. “In the interest of protecting other women from what I hope is only incompetence?”

Bella paused before answering. “Will he know that I’ve made a complaint?”

“Officially? No. Unofficially? Honestly, it wouldn’t be too hard for him to figure out.”

Edward admired Carlisle his professionalism. He also very much wanted to break Dr. Carr’s other hand.

Bella didn’t want Dr. Carr to hurt anyone else, but she was tired and knew that the hospital clinic was her only choice for care right now. . If she burned her bridges there . . . She looked at Sarah, frowning. What if her baby got sick? What if the staff took it out on her because of her complaint? She couldn’t see Carlisle refusing to treat her, but who knew how long he would be there for?

“I can’t,” she said, feeling a welling of shame. It was simply too much of a risk.

“I understand. Thank you for considering it,” Carlisle said. “If you change your mind, there are forms at the clerk’s desk.”

She nodded, and seeing they were done, reached again to pick up Sarah’s car seat.

He picked it up before she could and frowned. “You shouldn’t really be carrying anything heavier than your baby,” he said. “Where are you parked?”

“I’m not,” she said. “Charlie’ll come get me in a few hours.”

Of course. She didn’t have a car.

“Perhaps Alice—?” he began.

“No,” Bella said quickly, jaw tight.

She was trying to keep all her feelings bottled up , but they were having a feisty argument about who would get to escape first, and anger looked like it was winning. She briefly considered letting it have its way. That would at least smother all the other more uncomfortable emotions bubbling in her gut.

Carlisle held Sarah’s car seat, wondering how he could offer something—anything—in the way of support. It would keep him from acting on his baser instincts towards Dr. Carr.

“I’ll walk you to the lounge then,” he said, and carried Sarah, softly setting her down and walking away.

He called out to Edward silently, meeting him in the deeper shade of the trees.

“This isn’t the first time,” Edward said to him. “Several of the staff suspect.”

_ Tell me everything.  _

“He likes to hurt them and then enjoy their thanks when he patches them up,” he said, his disgust plain. “Or he . . . ” and he didn’t want to finish. “Always young women. Always vulnerable ones.”

Carlisle thought, _ The man mustn’t practise. He can’t be allowed to. _ He mulled over nonviolent ways of preventing him.

“He doesn’t deserve your mercy,” Edward said.

“He doesn’t deserve your vengeance, either,” Carlisle retorted, still mulling over possibilities.

Edward pulled in a sharp breath. “That would work quite well.” He nodded at Carlisle.

_ Will you ask Jasper, or should I? _

“It’s probably better if you do,” Edward said, a little dispiritedly. It pained him that things were still strained between them.

Their plans in place, Carlisle returned to work and Edward to his silent watch.


	12. Then

Jacob had been sitting on her bed, watching her run a brush through her hair. Her things were still scattered around the room, not yet fully unpacked. She’d only returned home from school a few days ago, and there were still gift bags, books and clothes in haphazard piles about the room. Her toiletries kit sat at the foot of the bed, and on the very top was a small box of pills.

Birth control pills.

The worn crease of the cardboard flap showed that it’d been opened and closed many times.

He’d really wanted to ask if she’d been taking them, but at the same time, didn’t.

It was a very loaded question to ask.

He’d gone for his favourite tack instead: humour.

“So,” he’d said, clearing his throat. “You’re, uh, worried about Charlie and Sue?”

“Why?” she’d asked as she turned around, still pulling the brush through her hair.

He’d caught her eye and cocked an eyebrow at the pills, “Got the old dog on the pill, huh?”

She’d sort of laughed and coughed, turning a flattering shade of pink. “Um, yeah. Sure.”

He had grinned but then let it slip a bit into a quizzical expression. “Why?”

The blush had persisted. “I wanted to have . . . options.”

His frown had deepened. 

“No,” she’d said quickly. “Sorry, that didn’t sound right. I . . . ” and she had blushed again. “It just seemed like it would eliminate a logistical obstacle, for us, if . . . ” Then she had sighed, feeling flustered. “I hadn’t planned to tell you until I was ready.”

Her cheeks had felt hot. 

He’d taken her hand. “I get it. Pills do not mean ready. Understood.” Clearing his throat, he’d added, “Just keep an eye on Charlie. That’s all I’m sayin’.” Then he’d grinned, kissing her fingers.

Bella fingered the cover on her bed, smoothing the wrinkles out of it. She could hear Sarah beginning to squirm and fuss in her bassinet, and she picked her up, curling her against her chest and moving into the rocking chair.

When Sarah’s protests became more fervent, Bella slid her sideways and onto her breast. The pull there ran deeper, tugging up the memory from last December.

They’d gone out for dinner, just the two of them. Sue and Charlie had spent the night at a friend’s after a party. When she and Jacob had returned home, he’d picked her up just inside the door.

“Can I tell you again how much I like this outfit?” he had asked, kissing her. His hands had slid appreciatively down her back as he set her down again.

“You can even tell my mom.” Bella had smiled into his chest, kissing him just above the open collar of his shirt. “She’ll be glad to hear I’ve actually worn it.”

“Red, stretchy, soft. What’s not to like?” He had been testing the stretchiness, one hand moving under the shirt and the other under the waistband. He had stopped abruptly. “Wait, aren’t you wearing tights?” He pulled back, looking down.

“Yes,” she said, kicking off her shoes, “and now that I’ve been so formal all evening, I’m going to put on a decent pair of sweatpants.”

Jacob had caught her hand and pulled her back, one hand sliding up rather than down the skirt as he kissed her again. “Ooh,” he said. “Are those thigh-highs?”

She had giggled as he waggled his eyebrows.

“I’ll help.” He had picked her up and carried her upstairs.

His help in removing the stockings had been very effective.

And then they’d helped each other remove the rest of their clothing.

The knock at her bedroom door interrupted her reverie.

“Oh,” Charlie said, seeing her nursing, “I’ll just . . . ”

“Oh, come on, Dad, seriously,” Bella said, rolling her eyes but snatching up a receiving blanket and throwing it over herself and Sarah. “Come in. You’re safe.”

“Sorry,” he said, “I’m sure I’ll be used to it by the time you wean her.”

Bella smiled, laughing a little. “Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay with us disappearing tomorrow.” He frowned as he said this. 

Normally, she would have made an exasperated sound, but she had a better sense now, holding Sarah, what the weight of his worry was. “We’re good, Dad. I’m glad you’re going. You and Sue have been awesome. You deserve a holiday.”

Charlie nodded, but the worried crease of his forehead remained.

“I’ve got Angela’s mom on speed dial. Leah and Seth are going to visit, and you’ll be back the day after next. All dandy.”

He kept nodding as if to reassure himself. "Okay,” he said. “And if anything happens,” here he reached out a finger, and brushed the tiny foot poking out from underneath the blanket, “you’ll call, right?”

“Like if she shoots poop all over the wall again? Absolutely.”

Charlie snorted, the memory of that diaper change still vivid.

“Sure,” he said. “Make a video too. No one at the station believed me.” He slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. “All right. I’m off to bed, then. Early start and all that.”

“‘Night, Dad,” she smiled at him.

“Night, Bells.”

Sarah had fallen off the breast, her mouth making a small ‘plop.’ Bella held her against her chest, rubbing her back, waiting for the rumbly burp. She was tired but not quite ready to relinquish the warmth of Sarah’s small body against her own, so she grasped the thread of the memory she’d followed before.

“You know,” she had told Jacob, “I like that you have a shirt with buttons.”

“Why?” he had asked, trying to appear patient when he wasn’t, watching her undo them.

She had grinned. “It’s like unwrapping a present. Slowly.”

Then she had leaned into the kiss he brought up to her.

He’d reversed their positions at that point, gladly shrugging off this last piece of clothing.

She had wanted to—or wanted to  _ want _ to—for a long time, but it hadn’t ever been quite right. It had been different that night, the softness of the holidays still simmering in the air, the piney resin from the Christmas tree lending itself to all other scents.

Clothing had disappeared before but not like this, and the trembling in both their hands had had nothing to do with either of them feeling chilled. Jacob’s heat had been even more intense than usual.

Naked, and exploring the fresh territory of each other’s bodies, Bella had wondered how she could be shy to ask him, but she was.

“I want to,” she had whispered to him between their kisses.

He had stopped at that point, leaning back so he could see her. “To go make Jello?” he had asked, eyebrows raised inquiringly.

It had worked.

She had laughed.

“No,” she had said, “much of a fan of it as I am.”

He had grinned, moving a strand of her hair out of her face, kissing her.

“Do you . . . not want to?” she had asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Oh no. I do. I just wanted to talk about it first.” He had looked around the room. “Do I need to get anything?”

“To make Jello?” she’d asked a little nervously, not sure what he was getting at.

It had been his turn to laugh. “A condom?”

“You saw.” She had lifted her chin towards her bag of toiletries.

“Yes, but I didn’t want to make any assumptions.”

He’d leaned over her at that point, his kiss bringing the conversation to a natural close.

It had felt amazing.

Right until it hadn’t.

He’d been tentative and nervous himself, then careful and slow. Gentle. Their movements had been plucked at by the soft touch of their hands and lips.

It had been the silent creep of mourning that had caught Bella off guard. Her defenses down, she had only seen the grief as the curl of its wave came crashing down over her.

She had burst into tears, choked sobs making her chest spasm.

Jacob had stopped, eyes wide with horror. He’d pulled away, hands off and uncertain. Then he’d picked her up, wrapping her first in his arms and then in the blanket from the bed.

“I love you,” he’d whispered. “It’s okay.”

When her breathing had allowed her to talk, she had choked out a broken, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“I thought—I thought I was ready.”

“It’s okay,” he had whispered. “You’re not. It’s okay.”

They’d stayed there together, hands tight on each other, he murmuring reassurances, she apologizing still.

She hadn’t understood.

Not then.

She couldn’t.

Now though, Sarah safe against her, Bella could risk the exploration of the dark places inside. She didn’t want to be caught off guard again. No.

This piece of her heart, housed in this small body, thumped against that emptiness.

It had hurt so much before, yet the void had healed. It could happen again. She would feel that wound close once more.

It had to.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	13. A Particular Torture

It was its own, particular torture to have to be around the people who knew Bella well.

Edward’s family didn’t want him to suffer, but they weren’t sparing him the consequences of his choices either.

Esme was clear. “Jasper and Carlisle are busy, and Alice and Emmett are keeping an eye on Bella.”

He didn’t bother with suggesting Rose. She would say no and then rub his nose in it.

“Hunting first,” Esme said, both worried and stern.

He wanted to object. There was no need for him to go hunt so soon after his last meal, but Esme’s eyes told him there was an argument brewing if he objected. After the words he’d had with Jasper, it would be hypocritical to say otherwise.

“Fine,” he said, going and returning as quickly as he could. He changed and retrieved the Volvo from the garage. Opening the driver’s side door, he paused, looking at the latest addition in the back seat. It smelled new and expensive. He wondered if Bella would approve.

Likely not, he determined.

He avoided greeting anyone he knew that he saw in town. It didn't lessen the torture of what their minds showed him, though.

It was challenging to move through the grocery store at an acceptable pace, putting things in the cart from the list Esme had thought at him as he’d walked from the house. Pasta, tinned tomatoes, ground beef, cream, mozzarella . . . The list was long. A lesser one would not be so credible. They were a large family, after all.

At the checkout, Edward found himself unavoidably confronted by one of Bella’s acquaintances. The clerk knew her from high school.

_ Whoa _ , the boy thought. _ So he’s back. Wonder if they’re together again. _

As the clerk began tallying Edward's order, he drew several conclusions: _ Well, either he’s got his own kid, or he’s shopping for hers. Weird. _

His thoughts centred on how different Bella looked with a baby. Edward didn’t like these observations much. They were entirely gratuitous and focused on the most noticeably focused on the changing shape of her chest. Edward’s growl buzzed below the hearing of the store’s human occupants.

Then the boy remembered what Bella had looked like during those months immediately following Edward’s departure.

The shift was remarkable.

Edward tried to drown out those memories with the thoughts of other people nearby. It didn’t work well, and he felt himself sickened, watching the horrors afresh in the boy’s mind.

Walking into the school was no better.

Jasper had left a laptop behind in their speedy departure from town.

It hadn’t been something they’d really needed or missed, but Esme had insisted he collect it. “People don’t just leave things like that. It will draw attention to us if we don’t send someone for it. You were liked there. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

Had been liked. Yes.

Then they’d left.

Mrs. Cope, so enthralled before by his charms then, was less receptive now.

Her memories of Bella were much more vivid than the boy at the check-out. She’d seen Bella often, and what she’d seen had been ugly indeed.

He was not spared in present judgment or recent memory.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, when she handed over the laptop.

He’d sought the quiet of the forest after dropping the things off at home, relieving Emmett of his watch.

As he stood beside Alice, she spoke.

“No. That would not be a good idea.” She gave him a stern look and a sterner, “Don’t.”

He said nothing but watched with her, the silence equally weighted between them.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	14. Apparitions

Leaving the house on time with a newborn was a feat Bella had yet to accomplish. She had the diaper bag and baby carrier by the door and the stroller ready to park on the porch. She’d just put her shoes on when the sound and ooze of a wet explosion in her arms made her grimace. Holding Sarah as far away from her nose as possible, she slugged herself and the baby upstairs, changed the offending diaper and outfit, and then washed her hands. By this point, Sarah was beginning to fuss again, and Bella realised she was probably hungry. Sighing, she gave up on arriving to the baby group on time and sat down on the couch to nurse Sarah. Again.

After giving her daughter a few more minutes for any new diaper-filling explosions, Bella wrapped Sarah in a warm blanket and then tucked her into the stroller. Just as she had rolled it out the door, the house phone rang. Bella toyed with not answering it, but when she considered that it might be Charlie, changed her mind, setting the brake and running back to pick up the handset.

“Stay inside!” Alice said, her voice high and hard.

Then the line went dead.

Bella dropped the phone and ran for the front door.

At the far end of the street, captured mid stride by the slow-motion Bella’s mind seemed to be operating in, was a vibrant whirl of red hair.

Victoria.

The shocked breath that rattled through Bella seemed to last forever, her hand trying to yank the braked stroller back inside the house.

Before her brain could fully make sense of what was happening, another body was crouched defensively at the top of the porch stairs. She knew every angle of it and froze, mesmerized by the movement of the bronze hair that the cold breeze ruffled.

There was a second body then—Alice’s, she realized, also crouched against attack.

Victoria disappeared as if by magic—there one moment, gone the next. The rattling laurel bush was the only physical confirmation of her presence.

Bella fumbled with the straps of the stroller, hands shaking, trying to get Sarah untangled. When she did, she pressed Sarah to her chest, arms wrapped protectively around her.

She could feel her own breaths coming faster and faster, the air not quite enough for her body to accept.

Alice stood and turned around slightly, watching her intently. She spoke in a calm and slow voice. “Bella, you’re holding her too tightly.”

The words registered but dully. Bella was looking at the ghost on her porch.

She wasn’t sure if he was real.

“We need to go,” Alice said, her voice rising in what sounded like alarm. “Now.”

“Hold on to Sarah, Bella,” the apparition said.

She stared at it, as if dumb.

“Bella,” Alice said, “we have to go. Can you hold Sarah while we run?”

No response.

“Edward, take Bella. I’ll take Sarah,” and Alice went to take the baby.

Bella said nothing, but stiffened, arms tighter around her baby.

“Now!” Alice called, pivoting to face away from Bella.

And they were flying. Bella closed her eyes, arms curled protectively around the fragile flesh of her child, colder arms around them both.

When the movement ended, she found herself being set down carefully onto the upholstery of a couch.

The voices around her were too quick to catch, so she focused on breathing, loosening her arms slightly around Sarah. She was still asleep, her trusting face puckering, lips moving in a silent suck.

Seeing her baby safe, Bella set her down carefully on the couch, knowing her own control was almost spent.

The shaking was growing, the air still tight in her lungs. When the curtain of blackness descended, it was a relief to feel her body slump into its welcome nothingness.

When she came to, she was lying down, feet elevated, a heavy blanket over her.

“Sarah!” she gasped, trying to sit up.

“She’s right here,” Alice said, one hand pressed to Bella’s shoulder, her gaze drawing Bella’s eyes to the small bundle in Alice’s sturdy arm. “She’s fine. Just lie down for a bit, okay?”

Bella made herself lie back, eyes scanning the space. She was in the Cullens’ living room. That much she could piece together. Alice was there, and ten short feet away, the vision that had haunted her for months stood, hands curling, face a mask of anxious worry.

Esme’s figure came into view, a cup held between her hands.

Bella closed her eyes again. It was too much. She couldn’t handle seeing them all.

Too much.

At least her breathing was reassuringly normal. She made it her only thought.

It helped. But then she opened her eyes, and they were all still there.

This time, Alice didn’t push her back when she sat up, but she did look at Esme and Edward, who moved silently from the room.

“Here,” Alice said, handing her the cup. The scent of honeyed tea reached her, and she took a sip. The hollowness receded slightly as she drank more

“Alice, why did you come back?”

Alice looked worried. They’d talked about this. “To keep you safe, Bella,” she said softly. It was almost with reproach.

Bella nodded. “And you’ll all leave once that’s done?”

“If that’s what you want, yes,” Alice said quietly, almost inaudibly.

“I see,” Bella whispered.

Edward had joined the others outside, his mind raging. It had all been in vain—their leaving, the torturous time apart, her misery. All for nothing.

He wanted to destroy something. Burn it. Make it ash. Explode each particle into nothingness. But he couldn’t.

Instead, he watched as they did, feeling the needling of Jasper’s influence prickling at his anger and despair, like having pins and needles in his heart.

“Don’t!” He snarled at his brother..

“Then control yourself!” Jasper glowered at him.

Edward would have liked nothing better than to take his frustrations out on Jasper at the moment, but a small and solitary wail made them all look towards its source.

Bella had taken Sarah, pressing her to her chest, rubbing her back. She stood carefully, walking, cradling the little head in her hand.

Esme had reappeared, her face concerned. The expression mirrored Alice’s. 

“It’s just gas,” Bella said, and continued walking, trying to soothe Sarah.

Alice and Esme exchanged nervous glances. They were worried Bella would faint while she was holding Sarah.

“May I?” Esme asked tentatively.

Feeling her own shakiness reassert itself, Bella sat again and held Sarah out.

Esme smiled as she took the baby, turning her over so that Sarah’s chest rested lengthways on Esme’s forearm. She rubbed her back and was soon rewarded with a large belch. Sliding her back over, she nestled her into her arm, wrapping a blanket around her with a well-practised motion.

“Thank you,” Bella said.

“Oh no, thank you,” Esme said, smiling. “It’s been a while. It feels wonderful to hold a baby again.” She let her fingers fuss with the edge of the material, tucking it away from Sarah’s face.

Bella cleared her throat. “Is it safe for us to go home?”

Alice frowned. “I’m not sure yet,” she said. “Not alone, no. If we’re close by, then yes. What they’re doing is . . . not certain.”

“‘They’?” Bella asked, as if testing this word out. More than one.

“Victoria and one other at least,” Alice confirmed.

Bella nodded, taking this in.

“It’d be better if you stayed here.” The voice was Edward’s. 

Bella’s shoulders stiffened.

“I’d like to go home,” she said, this time through almost clenched teeth.

“No,” Edward said, “it’s not safe.”

“YOU GAVE UP THE RIGHT TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO WHEN YOU LEFT!” she bellowed.

Then she looked at him, directly.

He was real all right.

She was glad she was angry. She wouldn’t trust herself to lay eyes on him otherwise.

“It’s safer here for both of you,” he said.

Part of her wanted to scream at him and vent her rage and anger at being put in this position by him. The other part of her knew he was right. And all in all, she was still so shaken by what had happened that expending more energy on continuing the negative feelings would be wasteful. 

After all, Sarah needed. It  _ was _ safer to remain here. And while she might have once been cavalier with her own life, she wouldn’t be with Sarah’s.

Her face felt hot, and she was sure it was a florid red.

“I need some air,” she said, moving by him and carefully avoiding contact.

She stood on the deck, hands on the railing, trying to breathe out the frustration at being captive to their protection.

Sarah’s wail made her close her eyes and stow her own feelings.

Esme quietly handed Sarah back to Bella. “There’s a guest room if you’d like some privacy,” she said softly, tipping her head in the direction of it.

Bella followed Esme up the short flight of stairs to what had been Esme’s study the last time she was here. The south facing window illuminated a spacious bed, a rocking chair, and a dresser. Tucked into the corner was a small bassinet.

She felt like an animal being installed in a zoo.

“Thank you,” she said hollowly, and then closed the door.

Sarah was utterly unsettled and fussed for the better part of an hour. Worried by the unusual behaviour, Bella fretted. She didn’t want to seek the help nearby and jumped when a knock came at the door.

“It’s just me,” Alice called, “and I come bearing lunch.”

Right, Bella thought. She hadn’t eaten or had much to drink. No wonder Sarah was fussing. The slight tremble in Bella’s hands was from more than shock. While the adrenaline had faded a little from her system, she still felt agitated.

“Come on in,” she called, trying again to get Sarah to nurse.

Alice entered, pushing the door open with her hip. She closed it quietly, carrying a tray.

“Here,” she said, setting it on the bed. Whatever she’d prepared, it smelled alluring.

“Do want me to hold her while you eat?” Alice asked.

Bella frowned. Sarah was still mewling, her cries wavering in the space.

“You can’t feed her until you yourself eat,” Alice reminded her.

It was true, but it rankled to be told as much, even by Alice. Everyone seemed to have unwanted advice for new mothers. Even childless Vampires.

Reluctantly, Bella handed over Sarah, who quieted in Alice’s arms. She ate, and Alice cooed to Sarah, melodiously describing her latest purchases.

Bella had to remind herself not to laugh through her food.

“Couture nursery rhymes. Awesome.”

“Style starts early, Bella. Clearly your mother didn’t recite them,” Alice said, cocking a judgmental eyebrow, but smiling also.

“Horrors,” Bella muttered, finishing her lunch. “That was amazing. Who do I have to thank?”

Alice didn’t answer right away. “Is it okay if I say his name, or do I need to refer to him as he-who-must-not-be-named?” She said it lightheartedly, but Bella could tell she wasn’t sure how the question would be received.

“You don’t need to dance around it,” Bella said, but her stomach twisted.

“Mmm,” Alice said, “all right.” She was eyeing Bella. “Have something to drink. You’re dehydrated.”

“Okay, that is annoying.”

“Yes, but I’m right, and Sarah needs you well.”

“Uh huh,” Bella said, taking a drink.

Sarah’s wails were growing louder.

Bella sighed, wrapping both her arms around her chest. She was sore.

“We have formula,” Alice said.

“No,” Bella said, taking Sarah back. “Absolutely not.”

“I’m not saying she needs it. I’m just saying we have it.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“Hardly,” Alice said.

In the kitchen, Esme looked at Edward with narrowed eyes.  _ Don’t _ , she thought.  _ She’s doing fine. _

Edward could tell she meant it. She’d seen a century of the medical profession interfering with what women knew was best.

“No formula,” Bella said, and put Sarah back to her breast, wincing as she did. She closed her eyes, and leaned back, trying to relax and calm herself. Her stomach was in knots of anxiety, anger, and much as she hated to admit it, fear.

The sudden solution that presented itself made her sigh in relief.

“Pass me the phone, please,” she said.

Alice looked at her, drop-jawed and stunned.

“No!” Edward growled.

Alice was still trying to process Bella’s choice and its implications when she heard Edward and Esme hissing at the door.

What surprised all of them was Rose.

“Don’t be an idiot!” she spat at him, low enough that Bella wouldn’t hear. “It’s her choice!”

“Not if it puts her in more danger, it isn’t!”

“Alice,” Bella said, “would you pass me the phone, please?”

Alice did, but slowly, almost as if she wished she could prevent the phone call by degrees with this tiny delay.

Bella punched in the number and sighed with relief when the line picked up. “Hey, Leah . . . Yeah, we’re fine . . . Yes, I’m with them . . . actually. I was hoping I could come stay with you tonight, if that’s okay.” 

Edward had barged into the room, startling Bella and Sarah. The baby pulled away painfully, and Bella inhaled sharply, fumbling with the phone.

Alice caught it, and after giving Edward a warning look, returned it to Bella.

“Please stay,” he said. “It’s not safe there.” He was desperate to keep her from the wolves, imagining her or Sarah mauled at some slight provocation. He’d seen Emily’s face in the minds of others. He knew where Bella and Sarah were safest.

Bella tried to ignore him, physically turning away, yanking down her shirt to cover herself while Sarah still nursed. “I think you’ll need to come get me,” she mumbled into the receiver. “Can you get the car seat from my place?”

“No,” Alice said, drawing Edward’s angry eyes, “we’ll drop you off.” She returned the stare, daring him to challenge her.

“We’d be happy to,” Rose added from the doorway.

Esme stayed out of sight in the hall, her thoughts pained.

_ Stop trying to force her choices _ , Edward.  _ You’re only making things worse _ .

It took all his self control to lower his voice. “I’ll drive you myself. What do you need for the night?” he asked.

“Hold on, Leah,” Bella said, putting the phone to her shoulder, resettling Sarah. She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. “Clothes, diapers, wipes, car seat, toothbrush.”

Alice tapped the dresser. “I think we’ve got you covered, Bella. Better if you didn’t go home . . . just yet,” she said, frowning in concentration.

Edward held out his hand for the phone. “May I discuss with Leah where we’ll meet her?” he asked.

Bella still couldn’t look at him.

“Sure,” she mumbled, holding out the handset. Their fingers brushed as he took it, and she felt the unnerving needles travel up her arm in a shivering, shocking wave.

She focused on Sarah, rocking them both back and forth with her eyes closed. She tried to relax as she attempted to nurse, but to no avail. The baby pulled away again, crying and frustrated.

Edward had walked away to finish the phone call, trying to give her some space. The conversation over, he returned, handing Alice her phone. “We’ll take you when you’re ready,” he said quietly to Bella.

She nodded, looking away, hand over her face, trying not to cry. She wanted to tell herself it was the exhaustion and the fright of the morning but knew she was only fooling herself.

_ GO! _ Rose yelled silently at Edward.  _ You’re upsetting her! _

When he turned to leave, she scowled at his back.

“Bella?” Alice said tentatively. “Do you want me to put some things in a bag for you?”

Bella could only nod, the tears moving freely now. Sarah was crying loudly, too, and the rocking was doing little to soothe either of them.

“How can we help you?” Esme said softly, coming to sit by them.

“She’s hungry,” Bella said, “and I can’t feed her right now.” She wasn’t sure how to explain.

“Stress can do that,” Esme said, a gentle smile on her face. “I remember. You just need to—”

“Relax,” Bella said. “I know.” She wiped her nose. “I can’t do that here.” There were fresh tears, ones of humiliation and shame. “Can you get the formula, please? I can’t take her in the car like this.”

“Sure,” Esme said, watching her, concerned. “That’s not a failure, Bella—to feed your baby.”

“I know,” Bella said, but it was clear she didn’t feel it.

Esme returned quickly with a full bottle, and Sarah drank it willingly.

Bella let Esme take Sarah while she washed her face. “Thank you,” she said, taking the baby back into her arms. “I’m ready.”

Alice followed her to the garage, putting the bag in the trunk. She’d tucked lanolin cream on the top layer, hoping Bella knew to use it.

“You’re not—?” Bella said, when Alice didn’t move to get in the car.

“No,” she said, “we’ll follow and be nearby, but we don’t want Leah to feel . . . threatened near you.”

That left Bella, Edward, and Sarah in the car.

“Thank you, Alice,” Bella said, “for everything,” and gave her a hug.

“Here,” Esme said, returning with a coat and a small bundle. “These should fit.”

Bella appreciated the coat. The garage was cool, and she’d left hers at home in the unexpected escape from Victoria.. “Thank you,” she said, the emotions bubbling dangerously under the surface. Esme squeezed her hand wordlessly.

There was a thick sweater just a little too big for Sarah but enough to keep her warm and a matching knitted blanket. The colours were startling beautiful, whorls of blue and green with shots of gold thread running through them. It reminded Bella of looking at the ocean on a sunny day. She noted that there was no tag on either. They were handmade.

“Glad she’ll get some use out of them,” Esme said, fingering a curl of wool near Sarah’s hand.

When Bella looked up from wrapping Sarah, Alice and Esme were gone.

“They’ve gone ahead,” Edward said, seeing her look, pulling out the car seat from the back of the Volvo.

Bella nodded. It was too dangerous to use words near him.

“Do you need a hand?” he asked, watching her fumble with the unfamiliar straps.

She frowned but moved back to let him secure them. Better to have Sarah safe than to risk securing them incorrectly.

Edward moved deliberately, making sure she could see how it was done next time and then locked the seat in place. He stood back, gesturing to the front and then the back, eyebrows raised inquiringly.

Bella sat behind him, carefully avoiding his gaze in the rearview mirror. Her face seemed to flush at whim, one minute hot with shame and the next cold with fear. 

Victoria had been so close. So close.

She knew the reaction was her shock delayed. She was several minutes into talking herself through it when Edward spoke. 

“She loves you. She was happy just to be with you when you fed her the formula.”

Bella closed her eyes and focused on breathing in and out. She wanted to open the window and cool her face. And so she wouldn’t be so overwhelmed by his scent, let alone by his voice. But she knew it would make Sarah cold, so she shut out as many of her senses as she could. If it wouldn’t have felt so juvenile, she would have stuck her fingers in her ears and said “LA-LA-LA-LA!” over his voice.

Edward didn’t say anything else though, and she let herself drift back into processing what had happened. Or what was still happening. Edward was here in front of her. She was inches from him. The reality of the morning and his present proximity very nearly eclipsed the possibilities for logical thought.

Her preoccupation made the drive mercifully short. When they stopped, it was at what Bella presumed was their designated meeting point. A short ways down the road, Leah stood in front of her own car, arms folded, a surly frown visible to Bella even at a distance.

“It’s safe,” Edward said, opening the door for Bella.

She unbuckled herself and went to pick up the carseat.

“Wait,” Edward said. “I’ll get it. It’s heavy.”

He had her bag already, and when she stood, he pulled the carseat and base from the car, waiting to follow her.

Leah remained statuesque. Her thoughts were anything but calm. Most of her rage was directed at Edward, who was approaching nervously. He wasn’t convinced she was in control. He closed his eyes briefly and said, “The car seat’s too heavy for Bella to carry. Can you take it, please?” He held it out, arm fully extended, resting it on his fingertips.

Leah took it as if it weighed nothing and walked away as quickly as she could.

Before she could see what he was doing, Edward slipped a phone into the top of the bag and then handed it to her. “If you need anything, please call,” he said.

Words were not a currency she would exchange with him. She wanted no part of the economy he was offering and only nodded, taking the satchel from the vibrant touch of his hand, walking away to join Leah.

Sitting in the passenger seat, driving west, she pressed her arms tightly to her chest, trying to staunch the flow of milk and the feeling that Edward’s touch had unlocked.


	15. An Obligation

“God,” Leah said, wrinkling her nose when they pulled up in front of her house. “I cannot tell you how much you stink. Go have a shower. I’m going to go wash everything that can be cleaned—including the bag and the baby.”

Bella had heard from Jacob what vampires smelled like to them, but she hadn’t experienced the reaction in person.

“That bad?”

“You have no idea.”

“I’ll just give Sarah a bath first, then.” She unbuckled her from the car seat. Leah was already loosening the seat base. “Um,” Bella said, “I don’t think that can be washed.”

“No, but it can sit outside in the breeze and maybe not stink so much tomorrow.”

Washed and dressed in borrowed clothes, Bella noted that Leah had hung up many of the items on the laundry line on the covered porch. Catching her glance, Leah said. “Most of these things are hand-wash, or dry-clean only. I cheated a little.” She smiled.

Bella gave Alice an internal eye roll. Trust her to buy the most impractical of clothing for a new mother and baby.

“Thank you for being careful with them,” she said, looking at the blanket and sweater hanging there. She expected one of the Cullens had knitted them for Sarah, and that meant something to her. She didn’t stop to examine too carefully what that “something” was, but it held meaning.

“Here,” Leah said, handing her a plastic bag full of other items. “These weren’t washable, but I wiped them down as best as I could.”

Bella opened it one-handed, Sarah in her other arm, swaddled loosely in a dry towel. Most of her baby things were still in the dryer. She frowned at the cell phone but not at the lanolin cream. “Can you hold Sarah for a bit?” she asked.

“Sure,” Leah said, taking her, nuzzling her own nose up against her hair. “You smell better,” she said softly, “like your dad.”

“Does she?” Bella asked, alarm brewing in her gut.

“Not that way,” Leah said, watching Bella out of the corner of her eye. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what Bella was doing under her shirt. “Not in a way you need to worry about.”

Bella couldn’t help but breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Yeah,” Leah said, “can’t imagine it would be fun to nurse a wolf-pup.” Then she snorted, her version of a laugh.

Bella tried to make herself laugh but couldn't, not quite. 

“She’ll be fine,” Leah said, seeing Bella’s look. “We’d know if she was going to change. Trust me.”

Bella nodded but her jaw wouldn’t relax. 

They sat on the couch together, Leah mumbling softly to Sarah.

After a bit, Leah handed her back without explanation and then walked away to her mom’s room. “Here,” she said, handing Bella a white and yellow box. “Mom meant to give this to you.”

“Thank you,” Bella said, eyeing the photo of the breast-pump on the front. “That was really kind of her.”

“She said she wished she’d had one and wanted to make sure you did—so you use it.”

Knowing that it would be sometime before Sarah nursed again, Bella thought it would be a perfect time to break it in. “You know, I think I just might, right now.”

“Sure,” Leah said, taking Sarah. “I’ve made up mom’s bed for you. Lots of space for you and Sarah tonight.”

“Thank you.” Her throat felt tight with unexpected emotion. People cared. It never ceased to surprise her, feeling her reactions to it.

The breast pump wasn’t hard to use, and it provided keen and immediate relief after Sarah’s missed feeding. It was surprising to see how little came out, but she supposed it was enough, thinking of her baby’s tiny body.

"Okay,” Leah said, seeing her come out with the bottle. “You go have a nap. Leave that with me.”

“Are you sure?” Bella asked, never having seen Leah as a maternal type.

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t feel up to it.” She saw Bella’s look. “I used to babysit my cousins, Bella. I’m good.”

Bella nodded, reassuring herself, and then went to lie down. Sleep didn’t come right away, but she gave herself permission to simply be with her thoughts. She’d resisted the advice, initially, to sleep when the baby slept but learned quickly that she needed to. When sleep did claim her, it was with two visages floating before her, neither of which she could touch.

When she emerged close to six in the evening, Sarah was still content, and the bottle was empty.

“I just changed her,” Leah said, and went to hand her back.

Holding Sarah again was akin to physical relief. She wasn’t often away from her baby, and it was always a surprise how strong the emotions were when she felt her physically against her.

“So, what’s up with the leech patrol?” Leah asked. “The pretty one still carrying a torch for you or something?” She thumped open cupboards and rattled through their contents, pulling out a pan.

It was at this moment that Seth walked into the house, going wide-eyed at Leah’s questions. He rolled his eyes at her back and shook his head, trying to get Bella to ignore her.

Too late. Leah’s question had punched Bella in the gut.

“They feel  _ obliged _ to clean up the mess they left,” she finally said. “That’s it.” A duty. Nothing more.

Seth elbowed his sister, as if hoping to silence her. It had the effect of quieting her to a mutter, “Seems like mighty special care for an obligation.”

“So,” Bella said, trying to move the conversation to a new topic, “how was your day, Seth?”

“Good, thanks,” he said. “We had a nice hike. You?” he asked before blanching.

Bella grinned a little. Social awkwardness clearly ran in the family. She knew that Leah had texted her brother about what had happened already. His temporary lapse in memory made his question easier to answer. “Fine, you know. Just a few vampires trying to kill me and mine.”

“We’ll take a sniff around when we drop you off tomorrow,” Leah said darkly.

Bella’s stomach dropped. They weren’t supposed to—not as wolves. She knew that.

“Just as two-leggers,” Leah said, catching Bella’s expression. “We’ll get enough of the scent to be able to know it later if they come back.”

Bella nodded. It was rare to hear about this. Jacob had been mute on most pack-related matters.

Dinner was a quiet affair, and despite having napped not too long beforehand, Bella found herself nodding off on the couch as they watched a movie together.

“I’m going to head to bed,” she said through a yawn.

“I’ll take Sarah,” Seth said eagerly. “I can bring her up when she needs you.”

“Maybe not tonight,” Leah said to Seth, “just in case we’re needed somewhere else. I’m thinking Quill and Paul are ready to go home.”

The soft and warm feeling Bella had experienced in their easy company disappeared. Of course they might be needed. “Thanks, Seth,” she said softly. “Next time, hey?”

“Sure,” he said, kissing the top of Sarah’s fuzzy head.

The night passed without event. As she walked downstairs to the kitchen, Bella wondered if she would find wolves on the front porch. But no, there were only Leah and Seth at the table, lanky bodies hunkered over plates of scrambled eggs and toast.

“I saved you some,” Seth said through a mouthful of food and stood to get her a plate. Then he held his hands out eagerly for Sarah.

“Thanks,” Bella smiled, watching him grin at Sarah. She was awake, which was a rare thing for a newborn. Her eyes strained and squeezed in focus, culminating with a large, loud, and wet sound.

Bella laughed at Seth’s reaction. “I’ll change her,” she offered, putting her plate down.

“Oh no, you eat. I’ll get it.” He shook his head, and then he turned to Sarah, complimenting her on her bodily efforts. Bella listened to the sound of his gentle talk fade as he walked upstairs.

After Bella was done eating, Leah asked, “So, you want to call and ask if it’s all clear at your place, or should I?” The latter part of the question was coloured by a slight curl in her lips.

“No,” Bella said huskily, “I’ll call and ask.”

“There’s no rush,” Leah said. “I mean, I get we’re not the Hilton,” she said.

“You’re awesome is what you are,” Bella said to her. “Thank you.”

Leah nodded. “I know it must have been kinda awkward . . . Anyway, you’re always welcome here.”

Bella was grateful for the offer but knew it would be crowded when Sue returned. Staying with them would also raise odd questions from Charlie. She would need to accept the Cullen’s protection if she wanted to live her life. She dared to hope that she wouldn’t have need of that protection much longer.

“I appreciate the offer, really. Thank you. I just think Charlie might wonder what was up.”

“Sure,” Leah said.

They spent the day together, playing games, watching TV, and going for a short walk through the cover of the forest, Sarah wrapped in a sling.

“You’re still recovering, hey?” Leah said, watching Bella’s face pale a few minutes away from the house.

“Yeah,” she said, sitting down on a tree stump. “Childbirth and all that.” She joked, but she was pale, alarmingly pale to Leah.

“Give me the baby,” Leah said. “You don’t look so good.”

“I can’t say I feel so good either,” Bella admitted, handing over Sarah.

Seth wrapped his arm around her for the rest of the walk back, and Bella lay down on the couch.

By the late afternoon, Bella had steeled herself to phone Alice.

“Finally!” she exclaimed over the phone. “I hate not being able to see you. Are you okay?”

“Sure,” Bella said.

“That does not sound truthful. . What’s wrong?”

“Nothing really. I just think I overdid it a bit today with a walk. That’s all.”

Alice made a noncommittal grunt on the other end of the line. “Your home is safe, and we’ll be there keeping watch, just in case.”

“Who’s we?” Bella asked, not sure she wanted to know.

“Emmett and I,” came the nonchalant response.

"Okay,” Bella said. “Just a warning, Leah and Seth are both going to drop me off, and they’d like to have a sniff around so they know the scents to look for.”

“That should be fine,” Alice said. “Just tell them to stay out of the woods.”

“I will,” Bella answered, shuddering, imagining the fight that would result if they didn’t.

When they pulled up to her house, Bella frowned at the car seat in the back. “Guess you guys should leave it here. I’m thinking the Cullens will take it back.”

“Sure,” Seth said, hefting it like it weighed nothing. Bella had tried to pick it up just to test its weight and had stopped, feeling the strain.

They’d sniffed around, as promised, nodding to each other. “All right, we’re off. Call us if you need anything, okay?”

“Sure,” Bella said, “Charlie’ll be back tomorrow. I should be good til then, but thank you so much, again.” She hugged them both, and they each made their own goodbyes to Sarah, ruffling the unruly tuft of her black hair.

Alice’s knock came a few minutes after they left.

“Ugh!” she said, pinching her nose.

Bella just laughed. “That’s what Leah said. She made me take a shower and everything.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Alice said.

“No way, Alice. My house, my smells. Tough. Besides, maybe it’ll make Victoria think twice of coming near here.”

Alice grimaced but then nodded reluctantly. “You are making this very difficult for me,” she said, frowning. Then she looked around the house. Things had slid, as they did with a baby, into a sort of semi-organized chaos. “Charlie hasn’t picked up the slack much, hmm?” she said, running a finger along the dusty coffee table.

Bella sighed, feeling a twinge of guilt. She hadn’t either.

“Well,” Alice said, “you lie down. I’m going to clean. Maybe it’ll cover up some of the smell.”

Then, Bella didn’t see her. Literally. She was moving too fast to even catch a glimpse. The vacuum, however, did slow her down a bit, and she watched Alice’s dizzying movements as she dusted, washed, and polished frenetically. In under an hour, she had cleaned the entire house from top to bottom. From ceilings to walls, everything was freshly degrimed. It smelled powerfully of wood oil soap and lemon floor wash.

“I think,” Bella said, wide-eyed at her work, “that was the best baby gift ever.”

“It’s nothing,” Alice said, waving her hand dismissively. “Of course, you could thank me by taking a bath with your baby.”

Bella grinned. “All right,” she said.

“And I’ll just go wash these clothes.”

“They were all just washed yesterday.” Bella sighed, smiling to herself.

“Uh-huh,” Alice said. “Can’t be too clean.”

Bella shook her head all the way upstairs.

“Just leave your clothes outside the bathroom door. I’ll bring you fresh ones in a bit!”

Bella enjoyed her bath with Sarah, something she hadn’t done before. Her little body was slippery, but she kept a firm grip, warming her against her chest as she rinsed off the offending odours.

Clean and dressed in clothes that Alice deemed acceptable scent-wise, Bella pulled leftovers from the fridge and popped them into the microwave.

Seeing the bag on the kitchen chair, she remembered the few items she hadn’t recognized. “Thank you for the lanolin. I’ve been meaning to buy some. But this,” and she pulled out the phone, “is yours. I won’t need it.”

“Oh,” Alice said, “no, that’s for you. Edward wanted you to have one . . . just in case,” she said.

Bella had flinched visibly at the name. She swallowed and nodded.  _ For Sarah _ , she told herself.  _ For Sarah _ .

She would do anything for Sarah. Even tolerate a gift from . . . him.

“I guess that might be . . . practical,” she admitted.

“Don’t worry,” Alice said. “He’s still an idiot.” She shook her head.

Bella tried to make herself laugh but couldn’t.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	16. Scholarships

The issue of money was a sticky one between Bella and Charlie.

Both Bella and Jacob had worked at several jobs after finding out about her pregnancy. Jacob had worked the summer after he’d graduated and so had Bella through her internship from the university. It hadn’t paid much, but it would have been enough to cover most of her courses for the next year. She’d initially planned to work part-time on campus and then take a loan if she had to in order to continue her studies.

The baby, of course, had changed all those plans.

They had decided that Jacob would continue with his work, and she would stay home. Their plan had been to have both of them take correspondence or night course from the satellite college in the area. Charlie was still keen on this plan and told her that he and Sue’d be happy to take Sarah while she studied or went to class.

But Bella looked at her small savings and fretted. She would have enough for a course or two and then nothing.

_ What if _ , she asked herself,  _ something happened to Charlie? _

_ No _ . She’d realized early on she needed to work. She needed a buffer to see Sarah fed and safe if anything happened. When she’d haltingly explained this to Charlie, he had offered his own savings.

“Dad, no. It’s your retirement. No way.”

The argument had turned into something of a stalemate. 

So Bella kept her eyes open for part-time work opportunities for January.

Edward listened in frustration.

It was Esme who decided to set up a scholarship fund through the local college.

“For single mothers from the college,” she said, “who’ve . . . recently endured personal hardship. I think that covers the father of their child dying, don’t you?” she said to Alice. “Can you put that under their noses when it gets published?” she asked.

“Sure,” Alice said, considering how she could best sway Bella to apply. Charlie had been friendly towards Alice and cool towards Carlisle, keeping his hostile feelings towards the remainder of them carefully contained.

Alice was a regular visitor to Bella’s and Charlie’s home, but only Alice. So when the college sent out their January scholarship opportunities in early November, Alice bounced over with them.

“Look at this, Bella! There’s a scholarship that you’d qualify for.” She’d highlighted it in bright yellow.

Charlie looked over eagerly. “Really?” and he pulled away the paper. “Apply,” he said, handing it back to Bella. “You never know with those things.”

Bella frowned at the paper and then looked at Alice, who concurred with Charlie. “You should,” she said.

The name on the scholarship sounded familiar, but Bella couldn’t quite place it. “Evanson,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head and giving up on remembering. Too little sleep made her brain feel like mush. "Okay,” she said, “it can’t hurt.” The paperwork was simple, and Bella filled it in within a few minutes.

“I’ll mail it tomorrow,” Alice said, taking and tucking it into her bag.

Bella murmured her thanks. Such small favours made a significant difference in her day, and she was grateful for the help.

Charlie stood up from the couch, stretching. “Are you all going back to school, then, in January too?”

Alice nodded. “Yes, we’re taking some local courses for now. The first year classes are pretty much the same everywhere, so I hear.” 

Charlie’s back was turned, and Bella rolled her eyes. She could imagine how well Alice knew.

“Bella,” Alice said, looking at her friend coyly, “why don’t you come with me to Port Angeles next week? You can help me start my Christmas shopping.”

“Erm,” Bella said quietly, so Charlie wouldn’t overhear, “I think your idea of Christmas shopping might be a bit out of my price range right now, Alice.”

It was Alice’s turn to roll her eyes. “I’m not asking you to spend anything. Just to keep me company. Besides, you haven’t looked at any of the cute baby stuff that’s out there.”

“Maybe,” Bella said, longing for a change of scenery, “we could just go window shopping? Or for a walk along the seawall on Saturday?”

“All right. God forbid we partake in the economy. I will, however, demand that we go to lunch, at least.”

“Lunch sounds good.” Bella smiled, looking forward to it.

Charlie had frowned when Alice left.

“You know,” he said, “I get that you’re being careful and everything, Bells, but really, when was the last time you spent anything?”

Bella took this statement entirely the wrong way and blushed deeply. She was just opening her mouth to respond when Charlie realized how she’d interpreted it. 

“No! That’s not at all what I meant.” He sighed. “We are not poor, not by any stretch, and I don’t want you to feel like you are. Look,” he said, “you always have a home here. Both of you. That’s just a given. No discussion.” He struggled more with the next words, thinking on the fly. “You’ve saved me a whole bunch of time and money with all the work you’ve done around the house, which I think I owe you a few hundred a month for.”

She opened her mouth again.

He held up his hand. “No, really. Think about it. What would it cost for me to have someone come in and clean and cook daily? Do the laundry? Tidy up?”

It was her turn to frown, running the calculation in her head. "Okay, sure, but—”

“No buts. I’m setting up a bi-monthly transfer to your account. Your choice what you do with it.”

He’d walked away at that point, leaving her no one to voice her objections to.

So she looked at Sarah instead. It was always easier to accept trickier things when her eyes were on her daughter.

“Thank you, Dad,” she said softly, when he came back.

“You’re welcome,” he replied, kissing the top of her head.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	17. Stitches, round two

Posted 2019-12-26: It's lovely to hear your responses to this story. So glad you're enjoying this.

Many thanks to chayasara for her fine beta work. Any mistakes are my own.

~ Erin

* * *

Bella found herself waiting on one of the clinic doctors again. Sue had volunteered to take Sarah for her while she kept her appointment.

“Go for a coffee after, Bella. We’ll be good for a bit. Maybe you can even see a friend?”

And by “see a friend,” Bella surmised she meant not one of the Cullens.

Who would she see, though?

After her last, disastrously failed attempt to go to a baby group, she hadn’t been able to attend again, stymied either by weather or Sarah’s growth spurt that required near constant nursing. Her school friends were all at university, none of them back in town, and that left . . . Alice or Leah. She wasn’t up for Leah, and Alice, she was pretty sure, was away hunting.

“I’d really enjoy a coffee and book for a bit, but let’s meet up at twelve, okay?” She knew that she’d be uncomfortable enough by then to need to nurse or pump.

So she sat waiting, distracting herself from her discomfort with her book.

When a knock came at the door, she was surprised. Most doctors just walked in. “Come in,” she said softly.

“Hi there,” a woman’s soft voice called, opening it slightly and then sidling in so Bella’s privacy was preserved. “I’m Dr. Tokich, and you must be Isabella.”

“Bella,” she said, correcting her.

“All right, Bella. Looks like you have some stitches to come out today and a pap smear, yes?”

Bella nodded, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. “Sorry, I was expecting Dr. Carr or Dr. Cullen. Are they away today?”

“No,” she said. “I’m the new Dr. Carr. He’s moved on to a new job.”

Bella swallowed.

_ No _ , she thought, the rush of denial trying to protect her.  _ They wouldn’t _ .

_ Yes _ , another part of her mind said. _ Yes, they would—very much would. _

“Oh,” she said, and swallowed.

The rest of the appointment passed uneventfully, the new doctor a little concerned at Bella’s sudden verbal disengagement but chalked it up to a new face and the tiredness of early parenthood.

When she was done, Bella found her way to Carlisle’s office.

She knocked loudly, wondering what she would do if he weren’t there.

Carlisle could hear her heart pounding and opened the door. “Bella?” he said, “this is a surprise. How can I help you?”

She closed the door behind her and asked her question abruptly. “What did you do to him?”

“To whom?” he asked.

“Dr. Carr. What did you do?” she demanded.

“Nothing, Bella.”

“Don’t lie,” she said through clenched teeth.

“I’m not. Truly. He received an offer for a teaching position at a medical college in the Bahamas. He left to take it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What part did you have in his leaving?”

Carlisle looked at her levelly. “I might have redirected an offer meant for myself towards him and recommended him for it.” 

“And?”

“His incompetence will speak for him, Bella. He’ll likely be fired.”

“And what will that have accomplished?” Bella imagined him setting up shop somewhere else, hurting other women.

“By then, a number of complaints, recently discovered under the desk of one of the clerks here will surface. They will not be pursued, but they will be enough for the hospital to give him the most damning of references. As his only place of practical employment, it will make it nearly impossible for him to practise again. His best chance will be to get hired as an associate faculty member at a third-rate medical college where he will have to keep his nose very clean.”

He watched her process this and waited.

“Oh,” she said. It seemed . . . so restrained.

She had imagined him broken and buried somewhere. The vague sense of disappointment made her feel uneasy, and she shook her head against it.

“You could still file a complaint,” he said quietly. “It would give weight to the . . . less substantial ones,” he said, fingering a piece of paper. “You weren’t the first. It would be nice if you were the last, though.”

She felt a bit stunned, thinking about all of it.

“Sure,” she finally managed.

He gestured to the seat in front of his desk and pulled out a file from his cabinet. “Here,” he said, and handed her a pen.

She filled in the forms, asking for little help except for some of the specific procedural information needed.

When she was done, she went to hand them to him.

“No,” he said, “you need to hand them in directly, by yourself. For good reason.”

This made sense. “Right,” she said, standing to go.

“Thank you,” he said. “I know it’s hard to make an accusation about someone in a position of authority. I appreciate you doing this. It makes it easier for others, too.”

She nodded and left, pausing only to hand the papers to a clerk. She mumbled, “It’s a complaint,” as she put them in his hand. She hoped they didn’t wind up throwing it away.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	18. Obliged

Alice had been very, very good, so good, in fact, that it was painful to watch.

"Okay,” Bella said late in the day, “I can’t take it. All your pent-up, unspent shopping energy is getting to me. Go! Go back and buy all the things you wouldn’t because I was there.”

Alice looked at her, one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“Huh,” she finally said, “smells like Bella. Looks like Bella, clearly,” and she narrowed her eyes, “not the Bella I know. Who are you?” she asked in a mock-accusing tone. 

“Bella, the mom. Seriously, you’re freaking me out. Go.”

Alice kept her cool, eyes sweeping the park. “All right,” she said. “There is one thing I would like to take home with me today. Do you think you can keep yourself out of trouble while I go and get it?”

Bella snorted. “Sorry, am I supposed to pretend that one of your family members is not lurking around here, keeping a second pair of eyes on me?”

“Yes,” Alice said pertly. “Yes, you are. But seriously,” and she tapped Bella’s hand warningly, “you are a trouble-magnet, so turn it off for the next half-hour or so, okay?”

“We’re going to hang out in the park, Alice, soaking up the microscopic vitamin D available here.” She looked down a little worriedly at Sarah. The midwife had advised her to get Sarah outside—tricky in the cool weather and with the lack of sun.

“All right,” Alice said. “See you in a bit,” and skipped off in the direction of the shops.

Bella paced with the stroller, wending her way around the park, retracing her steps, hoping Sarah would settle. She’d brought a book and wouldn’t mind just sitting for a few minutes, reading.

Sarah, however, was not soothed by the movement, and Bella realized that she was going to have to sit down to nurse. She sighed. There were benches, and it wasn’t that cold, but nursing was still tricky, and she didn’t like the idea of being in such a public place. In the restaurant, she’d taken the side of the booth that had offered some privacy. She picked a bench that was most screened from public view, facing the quiet end of the park, the back of it up against a large cedar. There would be little traffic there.

She saved the blanket for wrapping Sarah in, and tried to keep herself as covered as possible with her jacket.

Her hopes of being alone, though, were dashed when an older man ambled up to the bench and sat down. Bella didn’t want to look and attract his attention, so she kept looking at Sarah.

He, however, had noticed her.

“Nice baby you got there,” he said.

“Thanks,” she said, trying to be as minimally polite as she could. She’d glanced in his direction when she said this and caught sight of a scruffy beard, and a scruffier coat. The wind shifted, and she caught a smell that was commensurate with his appearance.

“She’s pretty, like her mama,” he said.

Bella didn’t acknowledge him. He needed no more encouragement.

Then he scooted closer and reached out to touch Sarah’s foot, rubbing it between his fingers. “Sweet baby,” he said softly. The words, so close to her, arrived with the odour of stale beer.

Strangers had touched Sarah before, and it hadn’t troubled her. It didn’t trouble her that he was touching Sarah. What bothered her was his other hand, sliding around behind her.

“Hands off,” she said, her voice low.

“No need to go all mama-bear on me,” he said, removing his hand from Sarah. His other hand stayed put.

Bella was contemplating the unthinkable—stopping Sarah from nursing, which she knew would most likely end up with her panicking and then becoming so upset she couldn’t nurse again, when she heard another voice, a much more dangerous voice from the deep shade of the trees.

“She told you to remove your hands.”

“What’s it to you, buddy?” the man said with some bravado, but Bella could feel him stiffen. He sensed the threat whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not.

“She told you to remove your hands from her,” Edward repeated himself. “I can assist you in removing them, if you like.”

The man needed no further warning. He got up and waddled away as fast as his legs could take him.

Bella closed her eyes momentarily and then made herself stare at Sarah. Her daughter was oblivious to what had happened, intent on her sole task.

“Are you all right?” Edward asked.

She allowed herself a fleeting sideways glance. He had taken the place the man had vacated but was sitting as far away from her as the bench would allow.

“I’m fine,” she said, as evenly as she could. “You can go.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but when he did, she could tell his words were carefully chosen. “I’m just making sure no one else sees the opportunity to provide an encore to that performance.” When she frowned, still not looking at him, he added, “There are several others considering it.” It was his turn to frown. “Alice might have chosen a nicer park to have you wait in.” He didn’t add that there were one or two others whose eyes had been drawn by the interaction, who’d also wanted to help.

“I chose it myself,” Bella said sharply. “I don’t need anyone making choices for me.”

There was no question towards whom this reprimand was directed.

“You can go. I’ll be fine. No vampires are waiting to kill me in broad daylight in the middle of a park. Your obligation is fulfilled.” The words were coloured nastily, even to Bella’s ears. Her cheeks warmed, and she pointedly avoided looking at Edward, staring at Sarah instead.

After taking several angry and shaky breaths, she caught a flicker of movement to her left as Edward leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. The sound of his voice told her he had turned his head to face her. 

“Do you really imagine, Bella, that I would ask my entire family to return after leaving and resettling elsewhere simply because of an ‘obligation’?” 

Bella said nothing, blinking rapidly as she nervously ruffled her fingers through Sarah’s fine hair.

Edward moved abruptly, standing and moving to squat in front of her, making their eye contact unavoidable. “Do you?”

She looked away. His gaze made her feel like her innards had liquefied. 

Then he was gone, and Alice was hurrying towards her, shopping bag in hand.

“I saw,” she said, pretending to be breathless for the sake of a pair of passing joggers. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Bella said, attempting a shrug, trying to slough off the very uncomfortable feelings in her midsection. “Bad stuff happens all the time. You can’t prevent all of it.” She was adjusting her shirt, putting Sarah up on her shoulder, when Alice scooped the baby up.

She was just in time. Sarah spat up profusely onto the grass.

Bella laughed. She couldn’t help it. It was just so ridiculous. She bent over, crying as she guffawed. When her breathing had regulated again, she said, “So glad you can see what’s coming, Alice. Fashion disaster averted!”

“Oh,” Alice said, wiping Sarah up, “she makes fun of me now, but you were going to do that down her shirt. I should have let you, huh?”

“Thank you, Alice,” Bella said, more humbly, still giggling. “That would have been uncomfortable.”

“Mm-hm,” Alice said, handing her back a tidy baby.

After they’d walked the short distance to the car, Alice said, “I wasn’t apologizing about the man, Bella. I’m sorry about Edward. He’s being—”

“An idiot?” Bella suggested. It was Alice’s most frequent characterization these days.

“Actually, I was going to say he’s marginally less idiotic, but,” and she became serious, “I know what our leaving did, Bella.”

Bella gripped the stroller tighter, feeling the dormant emptiness inside assert itself. Alice could say it so lightly, but Bella had no choice in how both the remembrance and the feeling clawed her apart.

“I don’t want to see you hurt again,” Alice finished.

Bella didn’t say anything. What could she say? She had to keep going, no matter how much it hurt. She looked at Sarah, this small and burgeoning flame growing in her darkness, and made her feet move forward, one after the other.

\- 0 -

Outside Bella’s home later that night, Alice and Edward stood in silent vigil, all senses alert for threats.

Alice asked Edward, silently, the question that had plagued her since their return. The images that accompanied it left no room for ambiguity.

He swallowed. It was a question he had struggled with himself.

“No,” he said simply. “I can’t.”

It wasn’t a surprise to Alice, but she was angry anyway.

“What exactly do you see happening, then?” she hissed.

He refused to answer.

She huffed in frustration. “Idiot,” she muttered instead.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	19. Sickness and Health

Sue had chastised Charlie roundly for suggesting it, pointing out that he would only be undermining Bella’s confidence in herself by implying she needed help.

“She’s doing beautifully, Charlie. Don’t worry about it.”

He had frowned and fretted over this. She’d been fine when they’d gone out of town before, but still, Sarah was so little, and she had few friends locally. Leah and Seth were busy with their own lives, and he hated, absolutely hated, that the Cullens were beginning to creep back into her life. Alice, well, she’d been fine, but Esme and Carlisle. They were the lead traitors in this whole affair.

And Edward. Charlie was glad that he hadn’t dared darken his doorway. The boy had enough sense to avoid a man with a gun at his disposal.

Still. Bella was a natural, calm and collected. Perhaps she was too focused on Sarah, but it was early yet.

“It’s important to me, Charlie,” Sue said. He didn’t miss the quaver in her voice. It had been Harry’s tradition to go with his friends on this hunting trip. She’d declined last year, but she wanted to see them, have them meet Charlie, say goodbye to her husband in this last way.

“You’re right,” he’d finally said. “Thank you for listening to my worries.”

She’d squeezed his hand, and they’d made their final arrangements.

Bella had, of course, assured him she would be fine.

“You gonna keep yourself busy with more than just housework while I’m gone?” he asked, a little worried she would.

“Oh, housework. Live for it. Of course.” She’d rolled her eyes. “I’m good, Dad. I’ll try getting to the baby group and finishing some more work applications.”

"Okay,” he’d said. He was packed. It would be the longest he’d been away from Sarah, he realized, and that pulled at his heartstrings. “Don’t grow too much,” he said to her, as she gargled over his hand.

The first day in the house, alone with Sarah, had been great. Bella had missed having some independence and quiet and was proud of herself for making it to the mom and baby group. It was hosted in the church basement, and Mrs. Weber greeted her warmly. “So glad you could finally make it!”

Bella was the youngest of the mothers there, but they welcomed her, and it was good to feel included in something beyond her family. The babies played or lay on the blankets set out, and Bella chatted with the others there. She was surprised how much lighter she felt when she walked home.

By the next night, though, she realized that in addition to a few possible friends, she’d also brought home the flu. As she checked her temperature, she tried to stay positive, telling herself that it could be worse—it could be the stomach flu.

The night passed fitfully, and she struggled to get up to feed and change Sarah. By the early morning, she didn’t hear her crying.

Edward did, though, as did Rose. After fifteen minutes of Sararh’s cries going unanswered, Edward took a step towards the house.

_ Don’t.  _ Rose thought.  _ We will not help by showing up unannounced. _

“She’s a baby, Rose,” he muttered.

“And humans sleep soundly,” she said. “Especially sleep-deprived new mothers.” Rose’s thoughts were lost in her human memories of her friend and her young baby. How tired she’d been.

Edward frowned. Sarah was so clearly distressed, her simple thoughts very, very clear and very, very loud.

The sound of glass breaking and Bella’s sharp inhale made them both stop still. When the smell of Bella’s blood reached them, Rose stopped breathing. 

“Move back,” Edward said, hearing the bent of her thoughts. “Quickly. Go hunt if you need to.”

Rose made herself think of Sarah and then fled before her baser instincts made her do something she would regret.

Sarah’s cries were becoming more panicked. Her thoughts were loudly so.

Edward knocked at the front door. There was no response. Using the spare key in the eave, he opened it and flew upstairs.

Bella had cut her hand on a glass by the bed. It had fallen and cracked. Her hand remained there, as if she’d been too exhausted to move it any further.

Sarah was shaking with her cries, little arms vibrating, the fear now fully blossomed into a body-shaking panic.

“Bella?” he called. She didn’t respond. Holding his hand just over her head, he could feel the heat radiating off of her. Her breathing was strained, but she didn’t appear to be in any immediate danger.

He went to Sarah next, picking her up. “You’re okay,” he said, rubbing her back. “Let’s get you cleaned and fed.” He continued talking to her, trying to soothe her with his voice as he changed her diaper.

“Bella,” he said softly. “Sarah’s hungry. Can you feed her?”

She gave a soft grunt but made no movement.

Edward didn’t want to touch her and was quickly reviewing his options. Only Rose, Emmett, and he remained within the reach of phone. The others had gone to hunt and would be out of cell service for several hours. It was too early to call on human friends.

He laid his hand on Bella’s shoulder. “Bella,” he said again, “Sarah needs you.”

Still nothing.

He sighed. Cradling Sarah in one arm, he went downstairs and found the formula, which Sarah devoured. He had to stop her at intervals and burp her to make sure she didn’t have too much and become ill. While she fed, he found the first-aid kit and walked carefully back upstairs with it.

The workings of Sarah’s mind were calmer now, and as he listened, he marvelled again at their complexity. When she looked at him, she thought of Alice, his cold touch so like hers, and this soothed her. Alice had fed and changed her. Edward seemed to fall into the same safe category. So trusting.

Her hunger abated, Sarah was soon asleep, and he placed her in her bassinet. Then he turned his attention to Bella’s hand. The cut was clean and fortunately free of glass. He washed it with antiseptic and then bandaged it lightly. It wouldn’t do to smother it. He cleaned up the blood carefully, washing everything down with bleach. He didn’t want to risk his family members’ instincts being roused near Bella or Sarah.

His hands told him her temperature was far above what it should be, and he managed to get her to sit up and drink some water but couldn’t quite get her to swallow the pills that would help reduce the fever.

By the midmorning, the others had returned, and Alice arrived, having seen what had unfolded.

“She needs to nurse,” he said to Alice, gently rocking Sarah.

Alice was working very hard to stay focused on the baby, but the smell of blood, still lingering, was muddying her thoughts.

“Alice!” Edward said sharply.

“I don’t think I can do this, Edward. I’m sorry,” she said, then turned and left.

While Carlisle came quickly, he looked a little exasperated at Edward’s request. “Sarah will nurse, Edward. She just needs to be given the opportunity.” 

This was not news to Edward. “And when Bella’s not delirious and asks what happened? She might accept Alice’s help, but mine?”

“I see your point,” Carlisle sighed. “All right, go. I can handle this for now, but I need to be at work soon.”

Sarah had, as predicted, nursed without difficulty. Bella remained largely unresponsive, drinking when water was presented but otherwise sleeping.

“I think,” Carlisle said, “all things considered, she’ll understand.”

Edward disagreed but kept it to himself.

It was around noon that she began to mutter in her delirium. What she said was always of interest to him, but this was particularly so.

“No Jake, don’t . . . s’not Edward . . . don’t go.”

She murmured other things, too, most of them having to do with Sarah and something about Charlie and the microwave.

By late afternoon, the cut to her hand had coagulated enough that Alice saw she could return.

"Okay,” she said, “I can take over from here.” 

“I’ll stay,” Edward said, “in case you need an extra set of hands.”

When Bella’s fever broke a few hours later, Alice had taken Sarah downstairs, watching her play under the baby arches in the living room. She had just started to reach for things, and Alice loved watching the stretch of her tiny grasp. She knew Bella was waking up but could see multiple possibilities unfolding and wanted to leave them well alone. It was long past time for this conversation.

Bella wasn’t sure she was dreaming. Edward was sitting in the rocking chair.  _ Dreaming _ , she decided. She smiled. She’d enjoy it while she could.

Edward looked worried. This was unusual for her dreams. His eyes normally didn’t look dark either. The purple smudges under them were deep. He leaned forward, handing her a glass of water.

She took it, not avoiding his touch. If anything, she sought it, frowning, feeling how real his fingers felt.

“You should drink something,” he said. “You’ve been really ill.”

She took a careful sip, her eyes not leaving him. The water felt so good, but so cold in her stomach. Her hand shook as she put the cup down on the night-stand. Something tugged at a memory, but she couldn’t place it.  _ Dreams never make sense _ , she told herself

“Sarah’s with Alice downstairs,” Edward said softly.

_ Sarah _ , she thought. Edward and Sarah usually didn’t collide in her dreams. She decided she must be very ill.  _ Or was she? Was it just the dream? _ No, the shiver told her. She was really sick.

“Are you hungry?” Edward asked.

She shook her head.

“Do you want me to get Sarah?”

“No,” she said, still watching him. She was wondering why he wasn’t lying down with her, holding her, the usual substance of her dreams. She wondered if she needed to ask him to. “Why aren’t you closer?”

Alice was meticulously counting the threads on the carpet, shutting Edward out from any glimpse of the near future.

His eyebrows shot up. “Do you want me to be?”

She nodded.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and she took his hand, lying down again, holding it close to her face. “I don’t feel well,” she said.

“No,” he said, “you’ve been very sick.”

She was asleep within moments.

He could barely contain himself, feeling the touch of her hand over his. The shock of her warmth travelled up his arms and directly into his non-existent heart.

Did she still feel the way he did about her? He’d hurt her so much. He had no right to claim any feeling from her. And yet, if his heart still beat, it would be pounding with joy. He let his fingers play over her cheek.

She slept until the next morning, only sliding up to the surface of sleep when Alice brought Sarah to nurse.

_ I don’t think you should be here when she wakes up, Edward _ , Alice thought. 

He agreed. Her patterns told him this waking would be more concrete.

When Bella did awaken, she knew it was real.

“Alice? What are you doing here?”

“You,” Alice answered, “have been very sick. The flu, so I’m told,” and she handed her a glass of orange juice. “Sip that slowly.”

Bella didn’t need to be told. Just sitting up made her feel woozy, her throat fuzzy and dry. Her stomach was more uncertain. She quickly put the juice down in favour of the water beside her, then frowned at her hand.

“You cut your hand the other night,” Alice explained.

Bella looked at her sharply. Alice’s control around blood was not the best. “Did you—?”

“No.” Alice shook her head, snorting. “Edward did. I had to leave.”

“Oh,” Bella said, swallowing again. “Where’s Sarah?”

“Right where you left her,” Alice said, nodding towards the bassinet.

Bella was struggling to get up. Alice’s hand was there, pushing her back down. “No way. You’ve been out for two days. Stay put. She’s fine.”

“Two days?”

“Very sick, remember?”

“Who—?”

“We took care of you both.”

Bella’s hands went to her chest.

“She’s been nursing,” Alice said calmly.

Bella blushed vividly. “Who helped?” she asked, this time with a hard edge to her voice.

Alice sidestepped the question. “What do you remember? You were awake for bits here and there, but you were pretty out of it too.”

Bella’s eyebrows creased together. Then her hand flew to her mouth. “That was real?”

“Not a mind reader. What was real?” Alice asked.

Bella only blushed deeper, but then the colour drained most disturbingly from her face, and she closed her eyes, leaning back against the headboard.

“Edward was here,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

“Edward helped Sarah nurse.”

“Yes.”

“Who else?”

“Carlisle. Me, once your hand had healed enough,” Alice said, a quaver of shame in her voice.

Bella was repeating the phrase  _ breastfeeding is better than formula  _ over and over in her head. It didn’t matter what it took or who it took she told herself, as long as Sarah was well.

“Thank you,” Bella murmured, “for taking care of Sarah and me. Could you bring her here, please?”

Alice did, and Bella sighed, feeling her safe in her arms.

After a while, she thought it was safe to ask another question. “Did I really ask him to come and sit with me?” It was almost a whisper.

Alice nodded.

Bella closed her eyes again.

Alice was surprised to see tears. “It’s not a bad thing to still have feelings for him, Bella. I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

Bella gritted the words out through her teeth: “It doesn’t mean anything, Alice.”

“It means you still have feelings for him.”

She huffed out a breath. “It doesn’t mean they’re good for me.”

“No,” she admitted, “it doesn’t. But he still has feelings for you.”

Outside, Edward froze. His disbelief was monumental, and the anger was not far behind. Alice had  _ no _ business saying anything about this.

Inside, Alice continued to work with her emotional wrecking ball. “He still loves you, Bella. He never stopped. He only said he didn’t so you would move on.”

Bella’s shock, and then Edward’s shock, were equal in proportion.

But Alice hadn’t seen Bella’s reaction.

“Get out.” she said.

“But—”

“Get out,” Bella said through freshly clenched teeth.

“Bella, you’re still really—”

“GET OUT!”

Alice stood and walked at a measured pace down the stairs.

When Bella heard the door close, she put her hand to her mouth and tried to stifle her sobs. She was not successful.

The conversation between Edward and Alice was much the same.

“Leave!” he hissed at her. He didn’t trust himself not to do worse, given the virtual bomb she’d just set off.

She held her ground though. “No!” she said. “Enough! You lied to her, Edward. You broke her heart. And then you made us all leave. You  _ demanded _ that we go. There was no choice. You broke  _ my _ heart in making me leave my friend. I’m done with this charade of yours. Pretending you don’t still love her, like that will make this safer!”

“It was  _ not _ your choice to make!”

“No, it was  _ yours _ to make, you idiot! And you’ve failed at every opportunity! You barely deserve her, but she loves you still. Either end it entirely, or acknowledge what everyone with half a brain and eyes can see!”

She was fierce, her head thrown forward, hands clenched in angry fists behind her.

He wanted to rampage through the woods, ripping up trees in frustration.

“Leave, Edward,” she said, her voice with less of an edge. “Jazz’ll join me. Run it off.”

He’d never wanted to attack his sister more than in this moment.

_ I love her, Edward. _

The chill that ran up his spine stopped him. What was he doing? 

Alice did love Bella. He could see it.

And what had his love done?

He didn’t have to look far to see.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	20. Ward

Bella forced herself to get up, to shower, to eat, to change Sarah, and to feed her. She still felt weak herself and stayed close to bed, bringing up some food to nibble on, sparing herself the trips up and down the stairs.

She phoned the Webers, hoping for help, but was dismayed to hear that they had been struck by the flu, too.

The realization that she was on her own weighed heavily.

It became even heavier when Sarah spiked her own fever in the early evening.

The call to the nurse’s hotline was not a reassuring one.

“No, in a baby that young, she needs to see a doctor—immediately,” the woman had said.

So she’d restocked the diaper bag, gathered what she needed by the door, and called a cab.

Outside, Alice called Carlisle, warning him.

He was waiting for Bella at the hospital’s emergency room door. She didn’t ask how he knew, feeling an uncomfortable mixture of relief and anxiety, having his sure hands on Sarah.

The other doctor present, though, was young and far too eager to practise new procedures.

“It is standard to have a lumbar puncture to rule out meningitis.”

Bella looked at him, horrified, and then less certainly at Carlisle. He gave the slightest shake of his head. She understood.

“No,” she said, knowing now it wasn’t necessary.

The resident frowned and disappeared shortly afterwards.

“We’re going to give her some Tylenol to bring down the fever,” Carlisle said, “and it would be best if she stayed here tonight. I know that’s not ideal.” He could see Bella was having difficulty sitting, herself. “Nurse her as much as you can, and we’ll monitor her temperature. Beyond that, it’s a matter of waiting and seeing.”

Bella nodded, and Carlisle left to attend to his other patients.

She must have dozed off, because there were other people in the room when she woke up.

“Hi there,” one of the women said. “I’m Ashleigh, one of the social workers here.” She cleared her throat, “I understand you’ve refused care for your daughter?”

“No,” Bella said, frowning. “Just the spinal tap.” She ran her hand over Sarah’s forehead. It was still warm.

“Yes, well, that’s standard procedure for fever with a newborn.”

“I understand,” Bella said, trying to shake the fuzziness from sleep and illness that still gripped her mind.

“Are you under the influence of any intoxicating substances, Ms. Swan?” she asked.

“Pardon?” Bella asked.

Ashleigh repeated the question.

“No,” Bella said, feeling the beginnings of indignation. “I’ve had the flu. I’m just tired right now.”

“So you’re not well?”

“I’m a little under the weather, yes.”

“Because you just left your daughter on an elevated surface that she could have rolled off of.” She gestured to the hospital bed. Both the side rails were up. Bella had stuffed them with blankets precisely so she wouldn’t roll off.

Bella looked at the social worker, and then at the bed, and back again in disbelief.

“She could roll off the end.”

“She can’t roll. She’s a newborn.” Was the woman completely obtuse?

The social worker eyed her levelly. “Babies tend to be able to do things the day after they couldn’t.”

Bella realized, suddenly, and with no small amount of panic, where this conversation was going. This woman was questioning her competence, and she was looking very hard for a reason to take Sarah from her care.

“I am competent to care for my daughter.”

The social worker was not convinced. “I’m instituting a 24-hour stay. That means that we appoint a temporary ward to care for your daughter while we monitor your care of her. That includes you submitting to a drug test. You can still be with her, but you don’t get to make decisions for her.”

For the second time that day, Bella was livid. She’d heard Charlie talk about these procedures. She knew they were reserved for the most extraordinary circumstances—ones that, when he’d described them, had made her skin crawl. These restrictions were for people who were drunk or high, or suspected of abusing their children. She was none of those things.

And she knew that arguing would only entrench the woman’s decision or increase the severity of it.

Fortunately, she also knew her rights.

“Then I’d like to appoint the guardian.”

The social worker wasn’t expecting this level of assertion from someone so young, and she looked up from her paperwork. She’d been hoping to appoint someone who would allow the procedure. “Yes,” she said carefully, “you are entitled to appoint a qualified guardian.”

Bella scrambled mentally, trying to think of who she could appoint.

“You’re allowed an hour to make those arrangements.”

Bella pulled out her phone, hesitating. She didn’t want to make Charlie come running back from his time away.

“They have to be here, physically, to make decisions. And be of age.”

Crap. That ruled out Charlie. And Sue. Or Leah.

She phoned Sam and Emily—no answer. Then the Webers—who were still too sick to leave home, and lastly, in a move of utter desperation, the Newtons—who didn’t answer either. 

Then she gritted her teeth and reminded herself that lumbar punctures carried a risk for paralysis and phoned Edward.

He didn’t answer either.

She put the phone away, forcing herself to remain calm.

Carlisle couldn’t do it either, as he was a hospital employee.

She began to explore the possibilities of calling on more remote acquaintances. Ones who would listen to her concerns, make the right choice. She ran her hand through her hair.  _ There has to be someone _ , she thought. 

A sharp rap on the door made her and Ashleigh turn and look.

“Alice called. She said you needed some help?” Edward leaned casually against the door frame.

Bella nodded, desperate for any help at this point.

The social worker knew who he was. “I’m sorry, but it can’t be a relative of a hospital employee.”

Edward pretended to look to Bella for an explanation.

“I need a temporary guardian for Sarah,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. She wasn’t sure who else she could call, not at this point.

“Oh, Carlisle and I aren’t related,” Edward said.

“No, but he’s your foster parent,” Ashleigh replied, eyes narrowed.

“He’s not,” Edward said politely, “I’m of age. There’s no relationship, at least not legally.”

“But you reside together?”

“No, I live in Seattle. I’m only visiting.” He pulled out his wallet and presented his license.

“All right,” Ashleigh said warily. It was obvious she didn’t like this. “There’s some paperwork to sign, and then you’ll need to speak with the doctors so you can make a decision for Sarah’s care.”

Bella looked at him desperately, wishing he could hear her thoughts.  _ Please understand _ , she intoned silently.  _ Please understand that I don’t want this for her. Please.  _ Her hand ran more frantically over Sarah’s hair.

Carlisle had returned with the offending resident in tow, along with another nurse.

“Can you come with me, please?” the nurse asked, gesturing that Bella follow her out.

She gave Edward another desperate look.

“Nothing’s going to happen to her,” he said softly.

Bella nodded, and hiding her fists in the pockets of her jeans, followed the nurse outside. 

She led Bella to a small bathroom and handed her a urine cup. When Bella went to close the door, the nurse looked at her apologetically and said, “Sorry, you need to leave it open a crack.”

“Right,” Bella spat out.

That sample provided, she thought the ugly business was done, but no. The nurse asked for a hair sample and then to inspect her arms.

She said nothing during all of this. When it was finished, she said, “I’m going to see my baby now.”

“Of course,” the nurse said, and escorted her back to the room. When they got there, though, the nurse put her head in and then closed the door again. “Sorry, you can’t go in yet.”

“Why?”

“They’re still in consultation.”

“It’s a yes or no question!” Bella said.

The nurse cleared her throat. “It sounded like quite an in-depth conversation.”

They waited there awkwardly for what felt like a small eternity. Bella was struggling just to stay upright, but she didn’t dare try to sit down or look anything beyond alert. She paced, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other, trying not to trip over herself. 

When the door opened, the resident emerged red-faced, huffing away, slamming the chart onto the door hook as he went. Carlisle came next, followed by the social worker. She looked . . . surprised, but seeing Bella’s anxious face said, “You can go in. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“What happened?” she asked Edward while looking at Sarah. Her hand flew to her mouth when she saw the nurse inserting an IV.

“It’s only fluid,” he said, “nothing else.”

Bella stared at Sarah, one hand clenched at her mouth, watching the little chest move up and down. Her hand stretched out to hold the tiny set of fingers curled in sleep.

It was the nurse who spoke up. “What happened,” she started, “is that a resident got showed up by a pre-med student.” She smiled at Edward. “I mean, they all need some taking down sometimes, but man, that was beautiful.” She punched in some numbers on a machine by the bed. “You picked your guardian well. He knows his research.” She nodded in approval, and then left.

“Thank you,” Bella said. Then she sat down in the chair, exhausted in so many ways, and rested her arms and head on the bed rail.

Twenty-four hours. They could go home then.

“Carlisle thinks she can leave in a few hours,” he said.

“They won’t let me take her home,” Bella said, her voice muffled by her position.

“No, but they’ll let  _ me _ take her to my home.”

Bella burst into tears.

He knelt down beside her. “I wasn’t planning on taking her away from you, Bella.”

“I know,” she said.

He frowned, not sure what to say or do, how to staunch her distress.

The return of the social worker, whose thoughts revealed begrudging but suspicious respect for him, spared him further deliberation.

“Your tests have all come back clean, Ms. Swan. The guardianship will terminate in twenty-four hours. I’m not recommending any further investigation.”

Bella had sat up, hastily wiping her eyes, and nodded.

Handing the paperwork to Edward, the social worker left, and they were alone again.

“Do you want her to stay here?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I just want to take her home.”

“We can, but it’s a risk if they find out,” he said, jutting his chin in the direction of the departed social worker.

“No,” she said, shaking her head again.

“Can you stand to stay with us for a day?” He was prepared for a no, prepared to execute vast subterfuge to help her.

_ Anything for Sarah _ , she told herself.

“Yes,” she said.

He had his phone out and was speaking too quickly into it for her to understand. It felt like a few minutes later when he was waking her. “She’s been discharged,” he said softly. “Can you walk?” He had Sarah in her carseat.

Her hand flew to Sarah’s forehead. “Is she—?”

“She’s doing well. Her fever is down, and we have everything we need at the house.”

The exhaustion left her feeling drunk, and Edward wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her steady. As they left, the silent voices of those around them remarked on what a beautiful young family they were. It made him ache to hear it, and ache more, wishing it were true.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	21. Twenty-Four Hours

Bella woke up in a bed, the watery sun low in the sky. She didn’t remember getting herself into the bed, and she was dressed as she had been the night before. She blinked up at the white ceiling, the pattern vaguely familiar—the memory of the night’s events flooding back. She was at the Cullens’ house.

“You fell asleep in the car,” Edward said. He was sitting in a chair, leaning over the bassinet. “Sorry,” he added, “should I have woken you?”

Bella pushed herself upwards, scooting back so far that she thumped her lower back painfully into the headboard. Her equilibrium was off-kilter from sleep, and her now galloping heart wasn’t making things much better. She swung her legs slowly over the side of the bed to the floor. 

“No, it’s fine,” she said. 

Edward didn’t move, but watched her carefully, wanting to go to her to make sure she didn’t fall. He stole occasional glances at Sarah, who was beside him in the bassinet. 

Bella crossed the room without incident, running her hand over Sarah’s small forehead. Wrapping her arms around her chest, Bella glanced at her watch, seeing it was almost nine. It was clear that Sarah hadn’t nursed since last night.

“Has she woken at all?”

“No, but she will soon though.”

Bella frowned a little. She was so accustomed to being the person who knew Sarah best. It made her feel pettily jealous that Edward knew things she never could. _Petty_, she told herself, and made her face relax. _He’s only ever helped her._ _And it’s not like you’ll have many opportunities to ask_. “Thank you for telling me. What does she dream of?” The last words slipped out quickly. She wasn’t sure she’d like the answer, but she wanted to know.

“You,” he said softly, smiling down at Sarah. “Sometimes just sensations, being warm, being fed, but mostly, just you—your face, your smell, your nursing her.” 

Edward watched Bella’s hand tremble on the bassinet. The skin was still tight over the bones with tension, and, he frowned, with weight-loss.

“Where do you want to nurse her?” he asked, standing so she had use of the chair if she wanted it.

“In bed,” she said quietly. She was still tired, and completely uncertain of being near Edward. She doubted he would come near her there.

“Here,” he said, scooping Sarah up, “do you need anything?”

Bella’s anger was instantaneous. She was perfectly capable of picking up her own child and of taking care of all her needs. Of course, present circumstances reminded her that she was beholden to him for being found wanting in this regard. 

She took a deep breath.

His question echoed in her head and then her heart. Did she need anything? Did she ever.  _ Another life?  _ Bella thought.  _ The father of my child alive and well? Not to have had you break my heart? _ She tried to shut off the next, logical question, but it was too quick, and it stabbed deep inside. _ Supposedly, you still love me? _

Before she could even think, she blurted out, “Is it true what Alice said? That you still love me?” 

They were standing facing one another, Sarah halfway to her in his arms, poised like an offering. 

Bella’s hands, already raised in preparation, began to tremble to the point that she could see, rather than only feel it. _ Idiot! _ She hissed to herself. The small moment between them stretched, the time elastic, despite his nearly instant response.

“Yes,” he said, “it is. I never stopped loving you.”

Sarah’s sudden, loud, and piercing wail made Bella startle, fumbling to take her from his hands. Edward held onto the baby, keeping her steady until Bella’s grip was sure. 

He didn’t want to let go.

He wanted to ask her the same question, but Bella had tripped with the baby in her arms, and he steadied her before she could feel it, his fingers unnoticed under her elbow as she reached the bed, quickly settling Sarah to her breast.

He sat by the footboard, considering his own words carefully. “And you, Bella? When you were ill, was that the real you I saw?”

She felt a pang of panic at her throat. It stoppered her speech, so she nodded instead.

“I’m so sorry for what I did to you, for leaving you.” He paused. “Please understand that I gave the others no choice. I insisted we go and that there be no goodbyes. I carry all the blame for our leaving.”

She was crying, trying very hard not to let it become more than simple tears. His hand, reaching for her face, made her pull away, a hand up to warn him away.

“No,” she choked out. “Don’t.”

He retracted his hand, resting it carefully on the bed. “I’m sorry. I think I misunderstood.”

“No,” she said, “you didn’t.” She couldn't name what she felt for him. That was simply too dangerous. “I just—I can’t—you left. And you’re here again. For how long? Who knows?” She shrugged, trying to pretend it didn’t matter.

“I won’t leave again, Bella,” he said.

“So you say.” She met his gaze.

“I’ve given you no reason to trust me.”

The very angry part of herself wanted to agree with him, but more of her knew that simply wasn’t true, at least not entirely. “I can’t go through that again,” she said instead, and looked at Sarah.

He’d seen enough in the minds of others to know that she couldn’t.

“No, and I won’t do that to you. Ever. I won’t leave, Bella. Even if you asked me to. I couldn’t.”

He said it with guilt. He owed her a life, one with joy—not this half-life he’d seen her limping through.

“Time’ll tell,” she said, the tears still flowing.

“Will you let me prove myself?” he asked, eyes still intent on her.

She didn’t know what to say to this. There was a dimple between her eyebrows as she considered the implications. “What does that even mean?” she asked.

“I love you. Let me prove myself worthy of your love.”

He’d leaned closer as he spoke, and the proximity was reminding her of all the very good reasons she’d kept her physical distance from him. The feelings that his very presence roused were insidious and powerful.

She closed her eyes and focused on breathing in and out.

He made a sudden sound of exasperation.

Alarmed, her eyes flew open. “What?”

“Alice,” he said, “and her impeccable timing.” He sighed. “She wants to talk to you if you’re willing.”

As far as Bella was concerned, Alice’s timing was impeccable.

“I think I can handle Alice,” she said, wiping her face.

He stood and walked to the door. “May we talk later?”

Bella nodded and then put her head back, exhaling, grateful for the space. Sarah nursed and squirmed, and she focused on breathing. Her stomach ached, and that hollowness in her gut pulsed. She’d noticed that it receded in Edward’s presence.

Alice’s voice was muffled slightly by the door. “I bring good will and breakfast!”

“I could use both,” Bella said, shifting Sarah to her other breast.

Alice came in, setting a tray down by the bed. “Am I forgiven for telling the truth even though it sucked to hear it?”

“Yes, Alice,” Bella said huskily, taking the hug that was offered. “Sorry for yelling at you. And thank you for taking care of us.”

Alice smiled at her. “It umm . . . seemed like a good time to intervene,” she said, looking back at the door, frowning a bit.

“I’ll say.” Bella looked over at the tray, her stomach rumbling.

“Is she finished her breakfast?” Alice asked, running a finger over Sarah’s fleece-covered foot.

“Oh yes.” Bella smiled seeing the milky open mouth, Sarah sated to somnolence again.

“I envy babies all their sleep,” Alice said, sliding Sarah into her arms. She put her on her blanketed shoulder, and was rewarded with a large and wet burp. Then she frowned. “She’s still warm.”

Bella felt her head. “Not too much. Why, do you see something?”

“No,” Alice said, “I don’t see much of her. I see lots of you, but Sarah I only get flickers of. Sorry. I know that’s not terribly comforting.”

“But Edward can hear her,” Bella said.

Alice shrugged. “But not you.”

Bella decided this was a mystery to be explored later. The morning had already had enough revelations.

When Bella finished eating, Alice shooed her off to the shower with clean clothes. When she emerged, Alice dragged her into the living room. “Come on, be social. You’ve been holed up sick for days. Besides, Carlisle’s back, and he wanted to talk to you.”

“Bella,” Carlisle said as he stood to greet her. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea that was going to happen.”

“I figured as much,” Bella said. “It’s okay. I’m grateful she’s all right and didn’t have to get a lumbar puncture, and that Edward was able to help.”

There was a profound silence in the room as everyone absorbed this last statement.

“May I have a look at her?” Carlisle asked.

“Sure,” Bella said, moving to hand Sarah to him.

“Why don’t you hold onto her. She’ll likely be happier if she stays with you.” He came closer, holding his hand just over Sarah’s forehead, listening to her intently. “She’s still nursing?”

Bella nodded, but when he asked about diapers, she couldn’t answer. “I don’t know. I haven’t changed her since last night.”

“I’ll ask Edward then,” Carlisle said. “She seems just fine, Bella. You were right to bring her in though. I hope you won’t hesitate if she’s ill again.”

“No. I’ll just make sure I take Charlie along.”

“You shouldn’t need to,” he said, the corners of his mouth turned down, “and if you’re really worried about that, call me. I’ll come to your home.”

“Sure,” Bella said uncertainly, but the thanks she wanted to offer was weighted by the very real concern that he might not be there to be called upon.

Though she felt much better for some sleep, Bella was still not entirely well herself, and the beginnings of a wave of dizziness were beginning to buzz at her feet.

“Come on,” Alice said, slipping an arm around Bella’s waist. “Come sit down and let Rose and Esme pretend to pay attention to you so they can fuss over your baby.”

“Alice!” Two indignant voices replied from the couch.

“Get a grip, I’m kidding,” Alice said, guiding Bella to the couch.

“It’s okay,” Bella said, chuckling. “I’m used to being second fiddle to this one.”

Esme smiled broadly. “May I?” she asked, holding out her arms.

“You enjoy,” Bella murmured, kissing Sarah’s head as she passed her over. She watched Esme sigh contentedly, holding Sarah. Rose had much the same look, sitting beside her mother.

Bella knew the feeling. There was something magical about holding Sarah. So much trust in that tiny body, all directed at the person in whose arms she resided.

Esme asked about Charlie at this point, and where he and Sue were. It was easy to talk. So much of the tension, Bella realized, had been lifted by Edward’s claim of the responsibility for their leaving. She could simply slip slip back into enjoying Esme’s kindness and laughing at Emmett’s jokes. Even Rose’s commentary was softened a little.

In the early afternoon, Edward reappeared and invited her for a walk.

Bella weighed the question for longer than she knew was expected, considering the last time he’d asked her to do such a thing. She tried to tell herself that it wouldn’t matter if circumstances repeated themselves. And then she very quickly revised her strategy and determined she would just keep putting one foot in front of the other if Edward left her again, and pretend her heart beat in her daughter’s body. Because she couldn’t imagine surviving any other way. 

Her heart rate was racing and her cheeks flushed by the time she responded to Edward’s question. “Sure, just um, not in the woods.”

Edward became very still for a moment before nodding politely and suggesting that they take the short path down to the river.

It was quiet there, and sitting on one of the large rocks, they watched the grey swirls of the water. The crisp air felt good on Bella’s hot cheeks. She could almost pretend that Edward didn’t affect her the way he did.

After a few minutes of silence, Edward asked, “What happened to your truck?” He wasn’t looking at her, but instead staring at the water, kicking a small stone into its depths.

Her shoulders relaxed a little. She’d expected him to ask something much more serious, or to press her more about her feelings. “The transmission went. It would have cost too much to fix it.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. I know you liked it.”

She looked at him incredulously. “You  _ hated _ my truck.”

He gave a small, wry grin. “Death lets us all be gracious.”

She could tell he regretted his phrasing, wincing and turning his face back to the water. There was nothing she could do to hide the uptick in her heartbeat. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “that was horribly insensitive.”

She shook her head. It had been funny. She was just strung like a piano-wire. “It’s okay.”

“You’re grieving. It was insensitive.”

They sat again, more silently than before. The water was an alluring shade of silvery grey, catching fragments of sunlight at its odd angles. It brought to mind the water off La Push, that pivotal day years before.

“When did you come back?” she asked.

“The first time?” he asked. “When Alice saw you jumping off a cliff. Why did you do that?”

A small laugh was half born in her throat. She hesitated telling him. She knew it would hurt him to hear it—that still ran against the grain of who she was.

“When you left, you asked me not to do anything reckless.” She swallowed before continuing. “But I discovered that when I  _ did _ do anything dangerous, I would . . . hear your voice.”

Edward’s posture became rigid, and Bella waited anxiously for his response. She didn’t like that she was anxious. Why should it matter? He’d lied and then left her. She had . . . she wanted to say no regrets about the life she’d lived since then, but that wouldn’t be true.

“You jumped off a cliff to hear my voice?” he asked, sounding eerily calm.

“Yes.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “For everything I put you through.”

She shrugged as if it was nothing, as if she hadn’t risked bodily harm to more keenly remember him.

“Was that the only reason you jumped?”

“I wasn’t suicidal, if that’s what you’re asking.” She didn’t add that once in the water, it had been so easy—too easy—to feel it slide over her, not to give up but to simply . . . give in.

She had more questions for him, though. “You left after you came back that time?”

“Yes,” he said. “You seemed . . . safe,” he frowned a little, “happy even, with Jacob.”

She nodded. Her hand went to Sarah’s head in the baby carrier. What she’d had with Jake had approached happiness. She didn’t correct Edward’s misinterpretation. “When did you come back after that?”

“The most recent time was last September. Alice could see you again.” 

“She couldn’t see me?”

“It seems that she can’t see the wolves. When your fate mixes with theirs, it disappears. That’s why, that spring—”

“You thought I was dead.”

He swallowed. “Yes.” 

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He nodded and offered something like a smile, but his face wore a quiet anguish, too.

Bella returned her attention to the river’s unpredictable rush, searching for something safe to say. She didn’t want to hurt him, for all the good reasons he’d given her to. And even though he’d hurt her in leaving, he’d done nothing but try to be helpful since. When she found what felt like a safe topic to broach, she almost smiled.

“So, seeing as you’re back, are you going to return my things?”

Edward’s eyebrows creased and then relaxed in comprehension. “Oh, of course,” he said. “Your gifts never left. I hid them under your floorboards.”

Neither his wording nor his tone were cavalier, and there was no way he could know how much she’d longed for those simple, physical items. How much comfort they would have brought her when he and the Cullens had left. But the way he said it so off-handedly felt like a slap.

Her cheeks flushed and she stood abruptly, huffing out her words. “You can be such a jerk, Edward.” She turned and walked back towards the house. 

He had no idea what he’d done and wondered if he should follow. Wisely, he decided not to.

Bella kicked off her shoes angrily at the door and stomped off to the guest room. Robbed of even the satisfaction of slamming the door, because it might wake Sarah, Bella slumped in the rocking chair, closing her eyes and moving herself back and forth. Sarah slept on in the baby carrier, oblivious to her mother’s turmoil.

_ Leaving them under the floorboards? Right there but utterly out of reach? _

She felt cruelly taunted. Logically, she understood that Edward couldn’t anticipate how hearing this would affect her. She tried to reason with herself that she was tired and feeling overly emotional. Irascible seemed a good description for her current state. That, and vexed.

Rocking herself back and forth in the rocking chair, Bella counted the hours remaining on what felt like a prison sentence. 

It was Carlisle whose knock surprised her at the door. “I’m heading to the hospital soon,” he said. “May I check her before I go?”

“Please,” she said, forcing herself to be polite.

Carlisle picked Sarah up this time, tucking her into his arm. He smiled, watching her sleep, seeing her well. “She’s still under the weather, and will be for a time, but I think the worst is past.” He gave Bella a few more instructions for general care but lingered when these were done.

“I wanted to thank you for talking with Edward. It’s been . . . difficult—for him, for all of us.”

Bella recognized, suddenly and unexpectedly, the look on his face. It was the same one she kept for Sarah. The concern etched lines beside his eyes.

Bella nodded, taking Sarah back.

“Perhaps,” Carlisle said gently, “you might continue to do so?” He nodded towards the door where, presumably, Edward waited.

“Of course,” she said softly. Carlisle left quietly, and Edward took two tentative steps into the room. 

“Sorry,” they both said.

He frowned. “Why are you sorry?”

“For storming off.” She didn’t need to ask why he was.

He did offer an explanation, though. “We can’t leave anything—”

“I know,” she said.

“But I wanted to leave as much as I could. I’m sorry. It was cruel and it was callous the way I said it.”

Bella was horrified to find her cheeks wet. 

Edward sat down on the edge of the bed and slid his hand over towards hers, squeezing it lightly. He let go almost immediately, afraid he wouldn’t be able to release her hand at all if he held it beyond the moment.

She wiped her eyes. “Crying over pictures and a CD. I feel ridiculous.”

He smiled softly. “It’s safer than crying over other things.”

She nodded.

After a moment, he asked, “will Charlie be home tomorrow?”

“Yes,” Bella said, “they said they’d be back by early evening.”

“Do you want to spend the night at your house or here?”

“I think we have an obligation beyond what I want directing that choice.” She nodded at Sarah.

He smiled. “I won’t tell if you don’t. Besides, I’d be there if anyone did check.”

“Yes,” she said, “I would.” She was longing for her own bed and space.

And so, after dinner, Edward drove them home.

At the steps he stopped her, and without a sound, summoned Alice, who appeared, her back to Bella’s, watching.

“What is it?” Bella asked, gripping Sarah tighter in her arms.

“Someone’s been here,” Edward said.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringment intended.


	22. Questions

“It’s safe,” Edward said, returning from his careful inspection of the house. While both his and Alice’s postures were clearly relaxed, Bella felt less easy about this statement.

She was about to open her mouth when Edward picked up Sarah in her carseat to take her inside, leaving Bella on the porch. 

“We wouldn’t be here still if it wasn’t,” Alice added. “You’re okay.” 

Bella nodded, and Alice returned the gesture and disappeared. 

Resettling things in her room, Bella went to find her sweater, still feeling a little cold and under the weather. She was sure she’d left it on the rocking chair. Of course, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d misplaced something since Sarah’s arrival. Then she frowned. No, she was sure she’d left it there. It was one of those odd things that stuck in her memory.

“Did you move anything?” she asked Edward, “when you came in?” looking around the room.

“No,” Edward said, smiling at Sarah in her bassinet, letting her grip his finger in her hand.

“Are you sure?” She was looking around with a keener eye. The sleeper she’d changed Sarah out of before going to the hospital was missing too. Would Alice have tidied up?

“What’s wrong?” he asked, standing.

“My sweater, her sleeper . . . They’re not here. I think some laundry is missing, too.”

“Clean or dirty?”

“Dirty.” 

“Things with your scents,” he said.

She nodded, and then swallowed, realizing the implication. They both were quiet for a moment.

“I’ll keep you safe.” 

She dipped her head, but not in agreement. He would try, yes, but she needed to make her own plans too.

“I’m just going to shower,” she said, reaching for the bassinet basket.

“I can watch her if you want,” he said.

Technically, she reminded herself, he needed to be here. She might as well accept the help. It was the other adage suggested to her by so many other mothers. Say yes when help is offered—always.

“Thank you, I’d . . . appreciate that.” 

She grabbed her clothes so she could get dressed in the bathroom, feeling a strange twinge of déjà vu. This was what they had done so many years before.

When she returned, Edward was holding Sarah in the rocking chair, talking softly to her. She was still so small, her little body fit comfortably in one of his arms.

Bella ran her hand over Sarah’s forehead, still warmer than it should be. Taking her into her own embrace, Sarah began to fuss, the small curl of her wails echoed back by the bay window.

“She’s warm,” Edward murmured.

“I can tell,” Bella said.

“No,” Edward said, smiling, “she’s too warm in your arms.”

What he meant dawned on her. She handed Sarah back, feeling a stab of rejection.

“It’s literally about temperature, Bella. She’s just hot.”

“I know,” Bella said, but her voice quavered.

“Why don’t Alice and I switch places. You’d be more—”

“No,” Bella said, shaking her head, “it’s fine.”

It was not fine, not by any stretch. It was painful, feeling the pull of her body against her common sense and hurt, knowing how easy it would be to walk back into what they’d had. But . . . the proverbial cliff she’d fallen off when he left was still so vibrant in her memory. She didn’t want him to go, but she didn’t want to want him, either.

He sat back down with Sarah in the rocking chair.

Bella curled herself up against the headboard, sliding her feet under the covers. To distract herself from the darker thoughts, she let her curiosity have its way. “Edward, what did you do when you were gone?”

“I tried tracking Victoria,” he said. “Obviously, not very well.”

“Where did you go?”

“Rio, Texas. Here and there.”

Bella, though, was remembering where he’d claimed to live, the night before. “And Seattle.”

He looked at her, as if he was estimating what she knew and what she was guessing. “Yes, Seattle too,” he confirmed.

“How long?” Her breathing was faster.

“Off and on,” he answered. An obvious evasion.

Something clicked for her.

“You were in my room!”

It took him a while to answer. “Yes.”

Her eyebrows immediately furrowed. “Were you watching—?”

“No,” he said quickly, firmly. “I was only there twice.”

“You took my pills.” It was a statement, a mystery solved.

“Yes.”

She’d wondered if one of her friends in residence had played a nasty trick on her. She’d never suspected who it really was and never bothered replacing the pills, either. There’d been no need.

Edward, trying to keep his distance, had hoped she would, that at least then she’d know what was going on, but it hadn’t been until reading week, when she was home visiting, that the pieces had come together.

Charlie had looked at her curled up on the couch, tired, vaguely nauseous, arms cradling her chest against the cold, and felt the uneasy sweep of memory. He’d taken a long breath in before he asked anything.

“You been feeling crummy for a while?” he’d asked.

“Just the last week or so,” she mumbled, not bothering to move.

He was doing the math in his head. It had been seven weeks since she’d been home. Seven weeks since the last time she’d seen Jacob in person.

He thought a lot of bad words in his head.

“Huh,” he said, still thinking. “Well,” he started, “think we’re out of milk for tomorrow, and I’d like a beer. Gonna run out and grab a few things. Want anything?” he asked.

“I’m fine, but thanks.” She was falling asleep. Again.

More bad words.

“Back in a bit.”

“‘kay.”

When he’d returned, he set the bag on the table and then pulled out a small, white and pink, rectangular box. He’d bought two different kinds, wanting to be sure. The cashier had made brief and awkward eye contact, seeing it, then tallied up his order.

Having read the instructions, he’d put both in his coat pocket. Then he’d sat down beside Bella and took in another deep breath, letting it out in a worried sigh. “Hey,” he’d murmured softly, waking her, “can we talk?”

She’d nodded, her eyebrows puckering a bit.

“You look,” he swallowed, “exactly like your mom did when she was pregnant.”

Bella’s eyes had gone wide with horror.

Charlie, though, had been a rock when she’d emerged from the bathroom sometime later, breathing unsteadily, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. They hadn’t even—

Edward’s words interrupted the memory, though. “You didn’t know you were pregnant. The pills—they can be harmful.” His eyes were apologetic.

She wanted to simultaneously thank him and yell at him for being so insanely interfering.  _ What else had he done? _ she wondered.

He was at least looking pained, revealing this. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t interfere, and I didn’t, but it was . . . difficult. You . . . attract danger.”

“I don’t think birth control pills constitute much of a danger,” she said levelly, “even in a pregnancy.”

“I wasn’t talking about the pills.” He looked at Sarah. “Werewolves,” he said softly, shaking his head. “Only you would replace vampires with werewolves.”

She snorted derisively. “I had no idea when Jacob and I started spending time together,” she said, “and they’re not dangerous. Not to humans, anyway.”

“I think Emily would say differently,” Edward countered.

“So would my heart.” She kept her voice hard edged. “They saved me.” Then her voice softened, “Jacob saved me, and she saves me every day.”

“She isn’t a wolf.”

“Not yet, no. We don’t know.” She looked at him. “Alice can’t see her. That says something.”

“Maybe.” He was hoping against what he estimated to be significant probabilities.

Edward stood and gently put Sarah down in her bed. “I’ll be outside if you need me.” He turned, walking towards the door.

She shook her head. “You’re so stubborn. That hasn’t changed.” Her statement didn’t invite further conversation.

He didn’t disagree.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	23. Trails

Posted: 2020-01-23

* * *

Edward had waited for Rose and Emmett to replace him at Bella’s house and then made the run home with Alice.

Jasper had been waiting outside for them. After greeting Alice, he’d folded his arms and faced Edward, throwing his brother’s anxiety right back at him.

“That doesn’t help,” Edward said.

“No,” Jasper agreed, “it doesn’t, does it?” He raised his eyebrows, making his point.

_ Please try _ , Alice was saying to Edward.  _ Please _ .

“Thank you for coming to talk to me,” Edward offered, tone contrite. “Did you get a chance to follow any of the trails?”

Jasper nodded, his thoughts illustrating where the scents had ended.

Edward blew out a breath in frustration.

Then he saw where else the unwanted visitors had been and looked at Jasper, the alarmed question in his eyes.

Jasper nodded, seeing it.

Hands in his hair, Edward groaned. “Anything else?” he asked aloud.

“No.” Jasper looked at Alice.

She shook her head too.

“Damn,” Edward muttered. Victoria had eluded him at every turn, and now she had help. Growing numbers of help. He felt more exposed each time their paths crossed.

“We’re committed to protecting Bella,” Jasper said, watching him. “Victoria won’t get by us.”

“I know you are, but each time she comes here, she learns something about us and about how we react.” He traced the length of the garage with his steps. “And the disappearances in the area . . . ” He didn’t need to finish this statement. They knew why.

“Carlisle’s going to Seattle next week with Esme,” Jasper said, “purportedly for a medical conference but to see what’s happening there, too.”

“Good,” Edward said. There had been a few unconnected disappearances there as well, nothing to draw a concentration of human eyes yet but soon.

He turned to Alice again. “Any decisions?” he asked, hoping she would have something.

“Just what Victoria’s hunting,” Alice answered. It was hard to watch, not only out of empathy for the victims, but because it roused her own bloodlust.

Jasper looked at Edward sharply, resenting the burden he put on Alice.

Alice smiled at her husband. “It’s fine. I want Bella safe, too.”

In response, Jasper slipped his arm around her, kissing the top of her head.

“Will you come with me for a bit?” Edward asked Jasper.

Jasper looked at Alice, who raised her eyebrows at Edward, but nodded.

They slipped through the forest, skirting the lowlands and finding their way to the rocky crags where they hoped to find something worth hunting.

“Do you need to?” Jasper asked, watching Edward scent carefully.

“Probably not, but I can’t be too careful,” he said. He didn’t add that he wished Jasper would do the same.

Bella’s cut the week prior had frightened him. Rose had been so close to the edge of her hunger. If they wanted to keep her safe—

“I do,” Jasper said. “Each time before I watch her.”

This made Edward frown. He hadn’t caught a spec of it in his thoughts, but he caught a flash of Alice’s cheeky grin in Jasper’s mind. “Ah,” he said, “she’s been teaching you.”

Jasper grinned widely. “Being apart has had its benefits.”

Edward snorted. “If you say so.”

Giving up on the vaporous scents that led nowhere, Edward sat down to admire the view. The moon was high, and he could see the forest and sea clearly.

“I’m sorry, Jasper, for what I said.”

Jasper kicked a small scrabble of stones away from himself, sending them flying down the rockface. “I can tell,” he said. “Thank you, though, for saying it.”

“I should have said it a long time ago.”

Jasper shrugged. He’d held his grudge with tenacity and then thrown it away with equal fervour.

Edward sighed. “I am sorry. I’ve been—”

“An idiot?” Jasper said.

Edward released a bark of a laugh. “It is her favourite term for me these days, isn’t it?”

“Suits you,” Jasper said, grinning. “Wear it with pride. Edward, the idiot, one and only.” He ducked the rock Edward threw.

If he hadn’t been in such a rush to get back to Bella, he would have stayed to best him in a wrestling match, but, his heart had the better pull of his mind.

_ Go, _ Jasper told him,  _ you’re making me antsy _ .

Edward didn’t have to be told twice.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement needed.


	24. Lunch

Charlie gave Sue the biggest and most silent sideways I-told-you-so grimace as Bella recounted her week.

But when she told them who had helped her with the social worker, Charlie became unnaturally still.

“You had to call  _ him _ for help,” he said simply, nodding, his face pained. He looked down, swallowing. “I’m so sorry, honey. If . . . if we have to be away, we’ll make sure there are people here to help you.”

“Dad,” Bella said, looking at him, “don’t you dare feel badly. It’s fine. He helped and I was grateful. Sarah’s fine.”

“Yes,” Charlie said, “and you should never have had to ask Edward Cullen for help.” He looked at her, the guilt so plain on his face.

Bella made herself appear exasperated. “It’s fine, Dad. Really.”

“You think it’s fine, Bella, but I don’t ever want to see him in your life again. Ever—let alone touching Sarah’s.” He said it with such ferocity and anger that both Sue and Bella looked at each other, worried.

“Dad,” Bella said firmly, “who is in my life is up to me. Even . . . Edward.”

Charlie sat down, wondering if this was what it felt like to have a heart attack. Did she want him back in her life? In Sarah’s? He was breathing heavily, the air thick in his throat. He closed his eyes, trying not to see his memories from those years before.

“Dad?” Bella asked.

“I can’t watch him hurt you again,” he said, this time his voice softened by an emotion Bella recognized.

“I understand.” 

He held his arms out for Sarah, and Bella gave her gladly. Charlie held her against his chest, like a talisman against evil. It worked, and the tightness in his breathing eased at her solid warmth. Her fever had gone and she still sniffled a bit but was as healthy as they could expect.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked, looking at Bella sit down. She’d lost more weight, which worried him. The flu this year was bad. He and Sue had been given flu shots for work, but he didn’t think Bella had received one.

“Yeah,” she said, “I’m still getting over the last bit of the flu.”

“We’ve got the weekend,” he said, “I’ll get my fill of Sarah before I go back to work, then, and you get some rest.”

On Sunday, Bella and Charlie had a lazy morning, both emerging from their pajamas near noon. They’d tag teamed with Sarah, and Charlie had her tucked under his arm, the other hand flipping through the paper while they sat on the couch when the doorbell rang.

Sauntering towards it, Charlie expected a delivery. So when he opened the door to find Edward Cullen standing there, he could only blink and stare.

His silence was short lived, soon replaced with a hot anger that swept from his chest to his face. He forced a curt, “Yes?” from his mouth, not wanting Sarah’s ears to be audience to his deeper feelings.

“Good morning. I was hoping to speak with Bella,” Edward said, watching Charlie carefully, worried his grip on the baby was too tight. He looked at Sarah, drawing Charlie’s eyes there, too, and saw the man’s arm loosen.

“Come in then,” Charlie said, turning his back, calling upstairs. “Bella,  _ Edward’s _ here to see you.” He spoke the name with distaste.

In the midst of donning her socks, Bella stopped moving at the sound of Edward’s name.

_ Yes _ , she told herself, she’d heard correctly.

She came downstairs slowly as if the outcome might change if she took more time to get there.

But no, he was there, standing across from Charlie in the entranceway, beautiful and perfect against her father’s livid humanity.

“I was wondering if I could take you to lunch,” he said.

She looked at Charlie holding Sarah, his face red and twitching, and then back at Edward.  _ What the hell was he thinking _ ? Then a spasm of fear clutched at her. Was there some danger present?

She cleared her throat, “Oh, that sounds nice. Um,” she added, “before I forget,” and she grabbed her phone, “can I get Victoria’s address? I meant to send her a thank you for the flowers.” Then she looked at him expectantly.

“She’s out of the country right now, but I’ll let you know when she’s back,” he said softly.

"Okay,” Bella said, breathing out slowly, adding a quiet, “Thanks.”

“Would you like to go for lunch?” he asked again.

“Sure,” she said, still wondering what this was about.

Charlie spun around. “I’ll keep Sarah,” he said. “So don’t be too long, okay? She’ll need to nurse soon enough.” Then he looked at Edward. The message was clear: bring her back soon—and safely.

“Of course,” Edward said.

Bella felt odd leaving the house with only her phone and wallet tucked into her jacket.

As soon as they were in the car, she asked, “What’s going on?”

“I wanted to take you to lunch,” Edward said, “nothing else.”

She put her head back on the seatrest, closing her eyes and letting out an anxious breath.

“I’m sorry. I should have called.” He looked truly remorseful.

“Yes,” she said, “you should have. Charlie is getting older. I would prefer my Dad not have a heart attack.”  _ Or myself, _ she thought. “He wasn’t happy that I needed to call you for help.”

Edward saw the look. “And neither were you.”

“I was glad you could help Sarah. I’m still grateful for that.”

Edward had put the heat on high, which kept the outside chill from Bella but left them both uncomfortable in the presence of each other’s heady scents.

It was easier in the restaurant.

“So,” she said, trying to keep the conversation somewhat safe, “what brought this on?”

“Lunch?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said, trying to look interested in the menu. That was difficult. The grimy plastic covers hadn’t changed in years and neither had the papers inside them.

“I didn’t think Charlie would appreciate me showing up and cooking lunch. This seemed like a nice compromise.”

“Are you worried I don’t eat?”

“I know you don’t eat enough,” he said, looking at her hands, the skin clinging tenaciously to her fine bones.

She put down the menu and put her hands back in her pockets. “Did you find . . . anything? Anyone? The other night?” she asked.

“No.”

“Really?” Bella asked. There was a challenge in her eyes when he met them. She’d had enough of being shut out with Jacob.

“There were four trails, but they ended in the water.”

Four. There were more of them. The worry made her eyebrows squish together.

“We will keep you safe,” Edward said. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Sorry, is ‘my pretty little head about it’ next?”

“Of course not.” The corners of his mouth turned down, “I brought this trouble into your life. I’d prefer to remove it without creating more problems for you.”

“I’m not going to pretend I don’t know what’s happening, Edward. I had enough of that while you were gone.”

Edward let his surprise show. “Jacob didn’t—?”

“No,” Bella said. “He couldn’t, and I stopped asking . . . eventually.”

“Why?”

“Sam runs a tight ship,” she shrugged, sipping her water.

“Hi there. Are you all ready to order?” the waitress asked, eyeing Bella and Edward specutavely. Edward gestured towards Bella, who ordered. When Edward only ordered a coke, the waitress raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment further.

When they were alone again, he asked, “How’s your cut?

She shrugged. “Fine.”

“May I see?” It was a cheap ploy on his part, but he wanted to touch her hand, if only briefly.

She placed her arm palm up on the table. He cradled it with his own, using his other hand to gently turn it, as if seeking better light.

“There’ll be a bit of a scar,” he murmured quietly, trying to keep his own reactions in check. Bella’s, he could hear, were wildly out of control, her heart pounding, breathing coming more rapidly than she was trying to let on. He traced the tip of his finger down the fine red line on her healing skin, feeling her shiver with an emotion about whose qualities he could only guess.

Then he made himself let go, resting his own hands flat on the table.

Bella snatched her fist back, arms crossed most distinctively over her chest, like she was holding herself together.

But the sudden, milky smell told him what she was trying to do.

He frowned a little, worried he’d pulled her away from Sarah at a bad time. “Do you need to get back?”

“No,” she said, blushing ferociously, squeezing tighter. It was just another horrifically embarrassing reaction of her traitorous body to him.

"Okay,” he said, releasing his frown, reaching for something to talk about. “How was it telling Charlie about what happened when he was away?”

“You weren’t there?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Alice made me hunt, and she wouldn’t tell me either. She . . . wants you to have your privacy as much as possible.”

Bella raised her eyebrows at the implication.

“I do too,” he said softly, “but I am . . . curious.”

“I think the reaction today should tell you all you need to know,” she said, breathing out. “I wouldn’t push it with him in general.”

“Do you think I would?” he smiled, laughing a bit.

She couldn’t help but smile back. “Yes, I think you would.”

He shook his head. He would kiss Charlie Swan’s feet if he thought it would ingratiate himself with either of the Swans. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

“You promised me you would be.” Her smile slipped into a more careful and neutral expression. It was risky, laughing, smiling. Feelings climbed up those things and expectation too. Other feelings were tagging along, noisy beneath this peaceful surface.

She put her hands on the table, fingers curled on the top, like she was steadying herself.

The waitress returned at this point, setting food and drinks in front of them.

Edward wondered if he wasn’t bad for her eating habits. She still seemed so agitated.

He rested his head on his hands, folded, trying to put her at ease. He wasn’t going to touch her, not unless she asked.

“I’d like to say that looks good, but . . . I’m sure it must look good to you.”

She laughed. “I’m sure they’ve got some wild game in the back. You just need to ask,” she grinned.

He grinned easily too.

It was a little bubble of happiness, fragile, and gone in a moment.

But she did eat. He was glad of that. They talked, she sharing what she knew of Charlie’s trip, Edward asking about Sarah. He hadn’t lay his own eyes on her in days. He missed watching her, hearing her thoughts up close. She was a small extension of Bella, and he realized his feelings for her were just as protective as they were for her mother.

“How’s Sarah doing?” he asked.

“She’s great,” Bella said. “Her fever’s completely gone. She just has a bit of a sniffle now.”

Edward nodded, letting his eyebrows squeeze together in concern. “Just . . . keep an eye on that,” he said carefully.

Bella looked at him, worried suddenly, that he knew something he wasn’t telling.

“Why?” she asked, clearly suspicious.

“It’s a bad year for the flu,” he said.

“So I hear,” she murmured, remembering Charlie’s comments.

Edward didn’t want to remind her how he knew just how bad the flu could be, so he gently said, “Sometimes, people catch things right after they’ve had the flu, when they’re weaker.” He looked at her thin hands. “So, it’s just good to be careful.”

“I am,” she said.

He wished she would take more care of herself, too, but he forced himself to move onto other topics. “Did you like the baby group?” he asked. She’d mentioned it but not in detail.

“Yeah,” she said, taking another bite, “I did. It’s been . . . quiet at home,” she said, but frowned, not quite satisfied with the wording. “A bit isolated, I guess.”

He said nothing, wanting to hear more.

“I’m not exactly in the company of my peers,” she mumbled.

_ No, she wasn’t. How could she ever be? _ he thought.  _ She was so much more. _

He hadn’t asked about the pregnancy. About her choice. He wanted to—badly—to know, to understand, but kept silent.

He was thrilled when she answered one of those questions.

“When I decided to have her, it made some friendships a bit difficult to keep.”

Edward wondered which ones. Still, he said nothing, listening intently.

She shrugged. “So, I need to make some new friends. It seemed like a good place to start, with other parents.”

He allowed himself a safe question. “Is it only for mothers and babies?”

“No, but they call it that, so I’m not sure how many fathers would show up.”

“Mmm,” he said.

“Why? Want to join me?” she asked, half joking.

“I’d be delighted to,” he said seriously. “Is that an invitation?”

She blinked, trying to envision Edward at a baby group. “I think it might defeat the purpose of me making new friends, having all the mothers drooling over you.”

He rolled his eyes at this, but knowing the effect his appearance had on others, accepted her estimation.

“I’d be happy to give you a ride. The weather isn’t the best this time of year.”

She was toying with her salad, uncomfortable with the offer.

“It probably isn’t good for Sarah to be out in the cold and wet even if you keep her dry,” he added.

“Right,” Bella said slowly. “A ride would be appreciated, for her sake.”

Edward celebrated inwardly. Charlie couldn’t argue with that rationale. He wondered if his own involvement would be reason enough for Charlie to buy his daughter a car. Possibly.

“I should probably get back.” Bella sighed, not quite ready to go but not wanting to push her luck with timing.

“Of course,” Edward said, signalling to the passing waitress.

“I can get it,” Bella said, but Edward snatched the bill before she could reach it.

“No,” he said gently, handing the slip of paper back to the waitress with cash. “No change, thank you.” He smiled at the waitress, and when she left, to Bella. “Friends are allowed to buy each other lunch.” Friends, he remembered, seemed to be able to give gifts, too. He tucked that thought away for later consideration.

“Thank you. I, um, am not sure how I’ll reciprocate,” she said, raising her eyebrows meaningfully. “I’ll call if I find any deer straying into the backyard.”

He wanted to smile at this, but the sudden image of him hunting so near to her or Sarah made him feel even colder than he was. His smile flickered, then guttered.

“Would it be all right if I come in to say hello to Sarah?” He kept his voice quiet and even as he asked, not wanting to pressure her with any expectation.

Bella smiled at him. “Of course, though I’m not sure how well Charlie will like it, just so you’re forewarned.”

Edward grinned, remembering something. “Does he still run away when you nurse?”

She laughed. “Yes.”

“Well, if we time things right, Charlie won’t stay around to mind.”

Bella cocked an eyebrow, wondering how Edward would time that.

Surprisingly though, things were at that point when they arrived back at the house.

Charlie stood with both feet apart, looking at Edward darkly, Sarah tucked under his arm like a football.

“Good lunch?” he asked Bella gently.

“Yes, it was,” she said. “Thank you, Dad. It was really nice to get out.”

This softened Charlie considerably. She had been inside too much. But as he looked at Edward, a fierce resentment that it had been  _ him _ that had taken her out asserted itself.

Sarah was starting to fuss more angrily, hearing her mother so close and not being in her arms, or more precisely, at not being fed.

“Here, Dad. She’s hungry,” Bella said, holding out her arms.

He gave her over easily, prepared to leave her in peace. His look at Edward invited the same.

Bella countermanded him. “Do want to come sit for a few minutes before you go?”

_ He was going _ , thought Charlie.  _ Good _ . That meant he could leave.

Bella sat down on the couch, and it gave Charlie just enough time to brush past Edward, threatening him with a fervent whisper. “If you hurt either of them, don’t think that I will not find you, because I will.” He walked away, angrily stomping down the stairs to his chores in the yard.

As she watched Edward sit down a seat apart from her, she asked softly, “What did he say to you?”

“He warned me not to hurt you or Sarah, which I have more than earned.”

The urge to protest surprised her. Edward certainly had earned Charlie’s censure. And hers. But she didn’t like Charlie interfering. She would need to make her boundaries with him clearer.

Bella focused instead on Sarah, rubbing a small chubby hand between her fingers and watching her daughter squirm in contentment.

Edward smiled. Sarah’s thoughts were peaceful.

“What?” she asked, seeing the curve of his lips in her peripheral vision.

“She’s happy,” he said softly. “It’s delightful to hear. So . . . utterly pure. It’s unusual.”

“Other babies must be too,” Bella said.

He shrugged. “Other people’s babies aren’t of much interest to me, Bella.” He reached a finger out, letting Sarah grip it briefly and then settling his hand back on his lap.

Bella blushed and then felt like a total chump.

Everyone complimented everyone’s baby. It was just polite. No need to feel like hers was something more.

_ Except she is _ , her mind told her.  _ She is the most special thing ever. _

Edward was standing, getting ready to leave, giving her space.

“I’ll see you Tuesday, then?”

“Tuesday at ten,” she said, and she bit her tongue before she could ask him to come back before then.

Boundaries, she reminded herself, were good things.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	25. News

Posted 2020-01-28

* * *

Charlie and Bella’s drives were usually silent ones, and this one was too. It was a well-worn absence of words, and Bella watched the familiar landmarks slide by in the dark. They were going to dinner at Sue’s along with Seth, Leah, and Billy. Normally, they got together on Sundays, but they’d pushed it to Monday evening after their trip.

Charlie looked a little uneasy, nervous, even. He kept squirming in the driver’s seat. Bella didn’t ask. He’d tell her why if he wanted to.

Billy’s face lit up when Charlie carried Sarah in. No one seemed to believe that she was yet capable of carrying both baby and car seat together.

“Hey, Bella,” Billy called, reaching out for her hand and taking the hug she offered.

“Hey yourself,” she said softly, handing him Sarah.

“I’m so jealous,” he said, looking at his granddaughter and then at Charlie. “Your papa gets you all the time. Doesn’t share you nearly enough.”

Bella frowned a little. It was true. She hadn’t really seen him beyond their weekly suppers, but without a car, that was going to be difficult.

Charlie seemed to think as much and rolled his eyes at Billy, but there was a tiny frown lurking in his smile, and Bella wondered if something else was amiss.

Sue shooed her out of the kitchen when she offered to help with dinner and commandeered Charlie instead. Bella took the hint and sat with Billy and Leah. Seth hadn’t arrived from work yet.

“Hey,” Leah said, “I heard you had quite a week while they were away.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” she said, taking a sip of the wine Sue had handed her. Billy was still cooing with Sarah.

“Mom said the Cullens helped out?”

Billy looked up at this. “What?”

Bella explained.

“Why didn’t you call Sam or Leah or . . . anyone?” he asked, his voice dark.

“I did,” she said, “I tried everyone.” She was feeling a bit uncomfortable under this interrogation.

“Don’t give her a hard time, Billy,” Charlie said. “She made sure Sarah was okay. Doesn’t matter who had to help her.” He didn’t like it anymore than they did, but he liked it less because they were making her feel bad about it.

Leah and Billy exchanged a look.

“Sorry, Bella,” Billy said, “he’s right, but there should have been someone from our family—extended or otherwise—to help you.”

If this wasn’t code for “wolf,” she wasn’t sure what was.

Bella hoped that the rest of the evening would spare her further awkwardness.

She hoped in vain.

Over dinner, Leah asked if Bella had gone to the baby group yet. “Yeah, last week. Pretty sure that’s where I got the flu.”

“Are you going again?” Leah said, this time through a bite of garlic bread.

Bella nodded over her own food, rocking Sarah in the carseat with her foot.

“You’re not walking, are you?” Sue asked. “The weather’s ‘sposed to be terrible tomorrow.” She looked at Charlie as if this was his fault.

“Actually,” Bella said, “I’ve got a ride.”

“Oh yeah? Who with?” Leah said, still talking and chewing simultaneously.

They all stared, waiting for Bella to finish her mouthful. “Um . . . Edward,” she mumbled quietly and then turned her attention rapidly back to her dinner.

The ensuing silence was filled by the clatter of cutlery, set down too quickly.

When she dared peek up again, everyone was still staring.

It was Charlie who cleared his throat and said quietly, “You hadn’t mentioned that.”

“No,” she said, putting her fork down, “and considering the looks that are going around the table, I’m sure you can understand why.”

This made everyone look even more uncomfortable.

There were so many things that couldn’t be said in Charlie’s presence, so many things that Charlie wanted to say but shouldn’t and didn’t, not in front of everyone else.

So, dinner continued on, and over the very small talk, Charlie contemplated how he might secure a car for Bella’s use. It would eliminate the insidious way the Cullens were creeping back into her—and Sarah’s—lives.

The tension had lessened ever so slightly by the time dessert was ready, and Sue and Charlie exchanged a meaningful look, nodding towards one another.

“We actually have some news,” Sue said quietly when the conversation had faded a bit.

Charlie smiled at her, lifting his chin, encouraging her to continue. Bella knew that look. He was too full of feelings to be able to talk.

“We’re getting married.” Sue said, smiling at Charlie. He smiled back, and they kissed, and then it was their turn to look nervously around the table.

There were happy smiles and congratulations from everyone there, Bella included.

“When Dad?” she asked.

“We haven’t decided yet,” he said, “but we were talking about the summer.”

“That’s awesome,” she said, smiling at him and leaning into his hug. “I’m really happy for you.”

“Are you?” he asked nervously. “Really?”

“Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I was worried you’d feel like you’d need to move out. You don’t. You’ll always have a home with me. Always.”

“Thank you, Dad. We will need to find our own way at some point,” she said.

“There’s no rush,” he said and hugged her again. “I mean it. She’s already growing so fast.” He had scooped Sarah into his own arms. “I cannot tell you how much I missed her last week.” He ruffled her hair, whispering, “Missed my little troll doll.”

Bella snorted. Sarah’s fine hair stuck straight up, a black tuft of softness. People couldn’t resist running their hands through it.

Everyone else had disappeared to help clean up, and Charlie and Bella sat together.

“Maybe we should see about finding you a car,” Charlie said.

“No, Dad,” she said, shaking her head. They’d talked about this. “I can’t afford it, and I don’t need one.” It was true; she didn’t. If she really needed to go anywhere in town, she had the stroller, and she could walk most places within an hour. Charlie’s car was available if she needed it in the evenings. “It would sit there, costing money being parked.”

“And it would be worth every cent if it meant you didn’t have to count on the likes of Edward Cullen.”

She looked at him, hearing the bluntness in his voice. “He knows what he did was wrong. He’s apologized.”

“Great,” Charlie said, snorting. “That makes it all better, then.”

“Do you trust me?”

He looked sharply at her. “Of course I do.”

She raised her eyebrows at him.

“I do,” he insisted.

“Do you really think that I’d make the same mistake after what happened before?”

Charlie looked around the room, making sure they were still alone. “Bella,” he said softly, “you might be able to hide it from other people who don’t know you as well as I do, but your feelings for him haven’t changed. As for the mistake, you’ve already made it. You’ve let him back in your life.”

“You don’t think I should have anything to do with him.”

“God no,” he said, trying not to show his exasperation. “Or the Cullens in general.”

She considered his words. “Even Alice, Dad?” She kept her cool but raised an eyebrow at him.

“Alice is okay ,” he said.

She snorted. “Alice is awesome.”

“Yes,” he conceded, “she is. Alice, I can handle.”

They sat quietly for a moment after this.

“I do love him, Dad,” Bella whispered. “I’m just not sure if it’s the right thing to do, to be with him. Or for Sarah.”

“He left you, Bella,” Charlie said, his lips tight over his teeth. “Don’t ever forget that.”

“I haven’t.”

“Past behaviour tends to predict future behaviour.”

“I know.”

He was going to open his mouth again, but she held up her hand. “I get it, Dad. And I need you to let me make my own choices and respect them, too.” She waited for him to nod. “And that includes being polite to him and  _ not _ making any more threatening comments.”

Charlie blew out a big breath.

Bella hadn’t told him exactly how Edward had kept Sarah from having a lumbar puncture, and she used the moment to explain the details of what had transpired.

“All right,” he said begrudgingly, “I’ll be polite.”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” She meant it. 

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	26. Tuesday at 10

Edward was glad he was early. He’d realized, partway to her house that the carseat would be too cold for Sarah, having sat in the garage, which was heated but only minimally. When he knocked on the door, Bella opened it, wearing a stained shirt, which was on inside out, her hair sticking out at awkward angles. “Sorry,” he said, “I know I’m early,” and held out the car seat. “This should sit over a heating vent for a bit though.”

“Sure,” Bella said, looking around for a grate that wasn’t crowded by clutter. “I’m not quite ready though.” Her gaze swept the room trying to locate an empty vent as she jiggled Sarah on her shoulder.

“Can I help?” Edward asked, holding out his arm. He closed the door with his foot and curled Sarah to his shoulder, shifting a newspaper off the vent closest to the entrance, setting the carseat upside down over it.

Bella stared, wanting to cry. It had been an exhausting night with Sarah up every few hours, crying each time she tried to set her down. Edward made everything look easy.

_ Everything was easy for him _ , she reminded herself.  _ And he didn’t need to sleep. _

She closed her eyes and breathed out. “I’m just going to get changed and try to look decent,” she said.

Edward nodded, looking at Sarah. She was dreaming. Right now, her thoughts were singular, and Edward smiled at them. He approved of her priorities. He didn’t like the small round bruise on her forehead though.

Bella was back in a few minutes, looking remarkably transformed. “Thank you,” she said. “You have no idea what it’s like to feel hostage to your pajamas.”

“No,” he said, “I definitely don’t.” What he wouldn’t give to, though.

Bella was looking for the baby carrier and her diaper bag.

Edward spotted them, hidden under a blanket on the couch, and pulled them out. “These?” he asked.

“Yes, thanks,” she said.

It was unlike her to forget things. The smudges under her eyes told him she wasn’t sleeping well. To be expected he supposed, looking at Sarah, but still.

“What happened here?” he asked, nodding toward Sarah’s bruise.

“Oh,” she said, “she’s starting to get some head control, and she tested it out with a nice whack to my collar bone.” Bella tugged at her t-shirt, revealing a much larger and angrier looking bruise on her clavicle. He frowned. Such injuries were common in new mothers though this knowledge provided him with little comfort.

“Is Charlie helping at night?” he asked.

“No,” she said, as if it was an obvious answer, “of course not.”

Edward did not like this. “Why not?”

“He’s got work. He needs his sleep,” she said, slipping on her coat.

“And you don’t?”

“I can take a nap when she does,” Bella said.

Edward was eyeing the paperwork on the table—job applications. “But you don’t,” he said.

“I’m fine,” she said, “and when she sleeps, I can get some things done.”

He nodded, feeling an unhappy helplessness. Would she accept help if he offered? Or Esme? Alice?

The car seat was warm enough, and Edward flipped it over, settling Sarah in it.

“I can get that,” Bella said, as if it were an imposition.

“It’s done,” he said, picking it up. “Ready?”

She nodded, and he went ahead of her, holding the door as he locked the car seat in place.

“Do you know where it is?” she asked.

He smiled knowingly.

“Silly question,” she mumbled to herself.

It was a short drive, but she was glad for it. The weather  _ was _ terrible. The rain was a mixture of undecided sleet and wet sheets that made the window wipers almost useless.

“Not many people here today,” he said, looking at the church parking lot. “Can I help you get Sarah inside?”

“Sure,” she said, starting to open the passenger door, trying to figure out how best to handle the logistics of extricating Sarah from the carseat in the downpour.

“Here,” he said, unbuckling Sarah, and pulling her deftly out of her seat, reaching easily from his own. He waited for Bella to get her snugly into the baby carrier, then came around with an umbrella. It was small, and allowed him a perfect excuse to walk close beside her.

Bella was trying to breathe normally, feeling him so near. The effect wasn’t lost on Edward, who watched to make sure she didn’t fall over, his arm hovering just behind her, but not making contact.

Inside, Edward was just about to ask when he should pick her up, when Mrs. Weber came by.

“Oh, Bella, you brought a friend—wonderful!”

She went to open her mouth, but Mrs. Weber was too fast. “Edward, right? Come in. We’re delighted to have more than just moms here!”

Edward smiled politely but said, “Actually, I’m just dropping off Bella and Sarah. What time?” he asked, looking at Bella.

She felt like her heart would stop, seeing his face transform, looking at hers. Had it always changed like that when he looked at her?

“Um,” she said, fishing for words, “Twelve?”

“Twelve thirty,” Mrs. Weber corrected her. “We have a guest today. Are you sure you want to go out in that?” She tried again, looking at Edward. The air between him and Bella was so charged that if they lived anywhere drier, she would have expected sparks.

It was at this point that Sarah started screaming. Not just cries of hunger or discontent but a full blown, repeated, steaming whistle of a sound that caught Bella completely off guard.

Edward moved closer without thinking about it, eyebrows knitted together in concern, using the pretext of looking at Sarah to whisper in Bella’s ear, “She’s in pain.” He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked, still worried, watching Bella try to remove the carrier straps.

Mrs. Weber had walked away, seeing Bella had help and having things to do.

This had been the substance of her night, trying to figure out what Sarah’s screams meant, and now it appeared it would be her day too. There were tears of frustration and exhaustion ready and willing to be spilled. She blinked them back.

“Don’t you have things to do?” she asked, feeling as if surely she should be able to handle this herself.

“I’d like you to have some help,” he said. Silently, he added  _ and some sleep _ . Here he sighed mentally. She was struggling, he could see, and he brushed his hand over Sarah’s head. “It’s okay to have help.”

Bella nodded.

“Can I?” he asked, holding out his hands for Sarah.

“Sure,” she said, her voice raspy.

He took Sarah and rested her face down on his shoulder, rubbing her back. The screams were loud, but they didn’t bother his ears. Other faces were starting to peek through the glass windows in the doors to the meeting room.

“Why don’t you go in? I’ll bring her in when she’s calmed down.”

“What if she doesn’t calm down?”

“She will.” He grinned. “I think it’s just gas.”

Bella frowned. “Gas that lasts all night long?”

“It can with babies. They can’t move around much.” He was bending her legs up to her small tummy, giving her the movement she couldn’t give herself. “Give me a few minutes.” He took the diaper bag from her shoulder, and seeing the puzzled look, said, “Just in case she needs a change.”

"Okay,” Bella said, feeling like she was cheating, walking away without a baby. She loved Sarah, but her exhaustion was speaking loudly, and she wanted nothing more than to sit down and do nothing.

Edward arrived a few minutes later with a freshly changed Sarah. Her outfit had been changed too.

“That bad?” Bella asked.

“Oh yes,” Edward said, still not returning Sarah. 

“I can take her,” Bella said, feeling uncertain with empty arms.

Edward had Sarah resting on his chest under an arm. “She’s going to sleep,” he said, going to move her.

“No!” Bella said, suddenly panicked. “Don’t move her. She might wake up.”

They were on the outside of a sparse circle in the room. Bella had turned her back to the centre of it when he had entered, and she still kept this position. He was glad, because the thoughts that were pointed her way were entirely counter-productive to her goals.

“I think,” he said softly, “that you were right about me being here. I don’t want to get in the way.”

“How so?” she asked quietly, still worried they would wake Sarah.

Edward considered how best to phrase this. “Several of them think I’m the father or your partner in some way, and most are feeling intensely jealous that you have help.”

Bella frowned.

Mrs. Weber had impeccable timing, though, and having seen what passed for casual interest around the circle, began the meeting.

“We’re always glad to have friends, partners, and fathers here, so thank you for being brave, Bella, and bringing a friend.” She smiled and then introduced their guest.

“I don’t think you can leave now,” Bella whispered to him.

“I have no problem leaving if you want me to,” he said.

She did not want him to.

“Today we’re working on baby massage and baby sign language,” the guest presenter said.

Edward chuckled, looking at Sarah, sound asleep on his chest. “Here,” he said, tugging at the corner of the baby carrier. Bella unbuckled it, and he adjusted it, one-handed, and slipped it on, tucking a blanket around Sarah to keep her warm in it.

The jealous thoughts were increasing. Some of them were bordering on anger.

“So,” the guest presenter, a far too energetic woman in her twenties, was saying, “let’s try that first technique. Best work on your baby’s legs to start. And, if your baby is sleeping, try it on a friend. You really need to use these techniques to remember them.”

Bella blushed intensely at being singled out. Again.

Great. Just great.

“Your shoulder  _ is _ sore,” Edward said softly, nodding towards her left side.

It was. “How do you—?”

“Your posture’s changed, and I’ve only seen you carry her on your left side.”

She frowned but nodded. She would play along.

He held out a hand in the direction of her shoulder, an offer.

She turned around and scooted back to be within his reach, watching the scant but wide circle of babies and mothers. Most were focused on their infants, who were generally reacting well to these therapeutic touches.

Sarah settled into Edward’s lap. He had free use of both hands and kneaded gently but with precise pressure into her shoulder. She felt her entire body electrify.

When they were shown the next technique, Edward did not stop but watched and pretended to apply what he’d learned. He knew all of this already but played along.

Bella, meanwhile, was focusing on keeping her breathing in a steady rhythm. She gave up on keeping her face a normal shade of pink.

Her body had forgotten what it was like to be touched, and she wasn’t surprised to feel the tears.

Edward was alarmed though. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked softly.

“No,” she said, “that feels really good.” But she was quickly losing herself in a memory she would far prefer to have lost.

“Are you awake?” Jacob had whispered, sitting on the bed.

“Mmhmm,” she mumbled, trying very hard not to be.

“Too hot?”

“Not helping,” she muttered, flipping carefully to her other side, to face him.

“Sorry,” he said softly but grinned and let his hands span her belly, hard and swollen, feeling the baby shift inside her.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Just after one,” Jacob answered.

“Why’re you here?” she yawned.

“In the neighbourhood,” he said casually, still shifting his hands over her stomach.

_ Right _ , she thought.  _ Patrol _ .

The heat hadn’t abated with September’s arrival. It felt cruel, really, with the fall a few weeks off that the weather hadn’t turned yet.

She was wearing underwear and a sports bra. She would have preferred to wear nothing, but her robe didn’t cover her anymore, and having to get dressed for her many nocturnal bathroom visits was just too onerous.

Jacob lay down beside her, kissing her shoulder. He was glad of the fan in the corner. It meant she could stand being near him.

“Want me to rub your back?” he asked, hands poised.

“Please,” she said softly, and groaned in relief as his hands worked their magic. She’d joked, initially, about him becoming a massage therapist after he started rubbing her back, but after he’d done some reading and applied a bit more expertise, it wasn’t a joke anymore.

“Seriously, Jake,” she’d said one day in August, “there’s a first year transfer program at the local college. It’s a good job—pays well. Save your love of engines as your hobby.”

“This,” he’d said, smiling at the compliment, “ _ is _ a labour of love and only for you.”

His hands were wandering off their appointed task, but Bella wasn’t complaining. When he gently turned her back over to face him, their lips found each other’s. His hands found other spaces to lie as well. As he slipped her bra and underwear off, this too was met with pleasured sounds from her throat.

Jacob had grinned widely when the midwife had listed nipple stimulation as way to induce labour and had taken the task to heart. He did that night, too, and Bella arched her back against the press of his lips.

It was, he thought, an invitation to more.

Much more.

Bella’s eyes flew open wide, but his kiss swallowed the sound of protest her own lips tried to make. Her tender flesh, so altered by pregnancy, was unprepared for him. The urgent push of her hands was an unmistakable refusal, and he pulled away.

He’d been angry at her rejection beyond what words could express.

Again.

She was shocked and had shakily pulled up the sheet, curling her legs under the throbbing ache he’d left inside her.

Neither said anything for a moment.

“You can’t—” she started.

“I know,” he said too fast. He knew he should add an apology, too, but he was too focused on staying in control of himself. He wanted, very badly, to break something, relieve the tension and frustration.

They’d been so close. Several times.

And the outcome was always the same.

He was angry, he realised, with himself for expecting more, for upsetting her, for trying without asking.

But he couldn’t rally the words he needed.

If he was honest with himself, he was jealous. The creature that had sunk its claws into her heart had broken it when he left. Jacob felt like he’d been left trying to patch it up with sticky tape and band-aids.

He loved her more than he had words for, but it wasn’t enough. To feel the effects of her inability to be with him in that way was an extra testing in a relationships that had already tested them both beyond what he felt he could bear.

His control was melting.

“I have to go,” he said, abruptly.

“Jake—” she called, her voice pained.

“No!” he growled, and was gone, the window rattling behind him.

It was the last time she saw him.

Edward’s hands had reached her lower back.

“Stop, please,” she said, her voice trembling and full of emotion he didn’t understand. “I don’t feel well,” she said. “I think I should go home.”


	27. Help

"Okay,” Edward said, pulling his hands back, wondering what he’d done.

Bella stood up awkwardly from the church’s gym floor, picking up her bag and walking out. Edward followed, ignoring the surprised thoughts and looks behind him.

She was standing by the door, huddled in her jacket when he reached out to touch her. “Bella?”

“Please don’t.” She breathed in and out deliberately. “I need to go home. Please.”

“Of course,” he said, picking up his umbrella.

She was very wet by the time they reached the car and didn’t say anything when Edward put Sarah in her car seat.

The car ride was a silent one, Edward wishing desperately, again, that he could hear her thoughts. They remained most obstinately muted to him.

After he helped her inside, he wondered if he could convince her to go sleep while he watched Sarah, but no, she was eyeing the paperwork on the table. Her gaze slid over the messy stack, then to the various piles of things that obviously wanted tidying. Her eyes didn’t focus though, and he wished again that he could hear her thoughts. 

“I upset you,” he said softly, watching her sit down at the table.

She didn’t answer right away. “It wasn’t you,” she said. “Jacob,” she began, “used to rub my back. He—” Then she burst into tears.

It ached, watching it. He wanted to do the most natural thing and pull her into the comfort of his arms but resisted, sitting beside her instead, his hand on the table, an offering she was free to take.

She didn’t.

“The last night I saw him,” she sniffled, wiping her nose with a tissue, “he did, and then we had . . . ” how could she describe that? “ . . . a fight.”

Edward listened. He asked what almost anyone would ask. “What did you fight about?”

She turned a florid shade of red and shook her head.

“Never mind,” he murmured. He waited a moment. “Can I suggest something?”

“What?”

“Sleep.”

“No.” It was a firm refusal. 

“You’re exhausted, Bella.”

“That’s parenthood,” she shrugged.

“It doesn't have to be.” He was frustrated, but this shifted when he remembered how she’d managed her grief after Sarah’s birth. He softened his approach. “How can I help you?”

“Distract me, please,” she said.

He remembered asking the same of her once.

“Sure,” he said. “Why don’t I fill in some of those for you, too?” he said, fingering a stack of applications.

“But—”

“I think I can fill in the basics.” he said.

"Okay,” she said, letting him slide a stack over.

“But over here,” he said, moving to one of the couches. Maybe if she sat somewhere comfortable, she’d fall asleep. Maybe.

She followed.

“So how else can I distract you?”

“Surprise me,” she said, shrugging.

He thought for a moment and then grasped something in his memory that she would appreciate. As he began, she interrupted him. “Really?” she said. “You met Robert Frost?”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t say I met him, but I heard his thoughts. It wasn’t until later, when I read his work, that I recalled it. Just snatches of some lesser poems.”

This was exactly the kind of diversion she needed, and he kept talking, filling in forms as he went. Her own writing slowed and then stopped entirely as she sank lower into the couch. He lowered the pitch of his voice, still talking, reciting lighter poems and verses that he hoped would fill her dreams with gentle things.

He finished all the forms, sliding the one she’d been working on off of her lap.

When Sarah began to stir, he rifled through the fridge, finding a bottle of breastmilk. He hoped Bella didn’t mind, but she needed to sleep, and picked up Sarah peremptorily. He was delighted at her recognition and walked her into the kitchen, softly talking to her, changing her, and enjoying her minute awakeness in his arms. When her thoughts shifted to Bella, he took her to see her, smiling at their mutual contentment.

“That’s your mom,” he whispered to her, narrating her thoughts, “and that’s your papa, and that’s Alice. She’s a friend. I’m a friend, too.”

He wondered if he would ever earn a greater title. He hoped so.

Edward was surprised to hear the sound of Charlie’s car approaching. It was close to one o’clock. From her father’s thoughts Edward gleaned that Charlie was checking on Bella, ensuring Edward had brought her home. It wouldn't surprise him. He’d earned Charlie’s distrust.

He positioned himself with Sarah close to the entrance way, hoping Charlie was quiet when he came in.

Charlie was, opening and closing the door carefully. Edward waved with his free hand, putting a finger to his lips as he tilted his head towards Bella on the couch.

It was a perfect opportunity to build some trust. He brought Sarah to Charlie, carefully handing her over so his hands didn’t make contact with Charlie’s.

“She fell asleep,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t want to wake her, but I should get out of your way.”

Charlie’s surprise pleased him. He had expected Edward to find a reason to stay.

“I used the bottle in the fridge. She’s clean,” he said quietly.

"Okay,” Charlie said, looking at his watch, frowning. He had come home to make sure she was okay and then head straight back to work.

“Do you need me to stay?” Edward asked, watching, still going through the charade of getting his jacket on.

Charlie lied. “I just came home to get some paperwork I forgot, but yes, I should get going pretty quickly.” He looked over at Bella, sleeping. He hated the idea of waking her. She’d been so tired lately.

But the idea of leaving Sarah with Edward. This didn’t sit well.

Edward quietly said, “Would you like me to see if Alice is free?”

Charlie nodded, and Edward pulled out his phone, texting quickly. The reply was instant. “Yes, she’s just in town and can be here in a few minutes.”

Charlie nodded and added a gruff “Thanks,” and Edward made a quick departure.

“So,” Alice said in a low voice when she arrived shortly after Edward’s departure, “do I need to alert Carlisle?”

Charlie frowned. “No, why?”

“Just want to make sure Edward doesn’t need any bullet holes patched up. That’s all.”

Charlie snorted, handing Sarah over. “Thanks, Alice.”

“Oh,” she said, “I wouldn’t blame you. He’s been the biggest idiot ever.” She smiled at Sarah, the contrast of her expression with her words startling to Charlie.

“Bella made me promise I’d be nice to him,” he grumbled.

Alice looked up at him, faking surprise. “Really?” When he nodded, she shook her head. “You’re a saint, Charlie.”

He grimaced a bit at this. “If he helps her, I can’t complain. She needs it, and she won’t take much from me.”

“How so?” Alice asked innocently.

“At night. Tells me to go get some sleep. Won’t let me handle any of the feedings,” he said, forgetting to collect his made-up paperwork as he put his shoes back on.

“You know, the boys are all away this weekend. Maybe Bella wants to join us for a girls night on Friday? I think we can help her get a good night’s sleep.”

Charlie was nodding. This would be helpful, and if Edward wasn’t there, all the better.

“I’ll mention it,” he said. “Thank you again,” and with a brief hug for Alice and a quick kiss for Sarah, he was gone.

The daylight had all but faded when Bella started awake. She wasn’t exactly surprised to see Alice, but she felt an unwelcome flicker of disappointment finding Edward absent. When she looked at her watch, she was panicked.

“Sarah,” she said, “she must be—”

“Fine,” Alice said. “Edward used the bottle in the fridge. I found more in the freezer. It isn’t rocket science.”

Bella laughed. “Feels like it sometimes.”

“She’s still good, but you should probably go take care of yourself for a bit. I’m going to have to pretend to go home soon.”

Bella’s stomach twisted, hearing this. Yes, they were still all arranging their lives around hers.

“Don’t you dare feel badly about that,” Alice added, seeing Bella bite her lip.

Bella smiled weakly.

“Friday,” Alice said, watching her stand up, wobbly with tiredness, “I’m kidnapping you for a girls’ night. All Charlie-approved and everything.”

She laughed at this. “Yes, because at twenty—and, as a parent—I’m totally used to my father making decisions for me.”

“The boys are hunting Friday. You know, it would be nice to actually be inside for once.”

Alice knew just how to pull at Bella’s guilt. “Of course,” Bella said, “right.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Alice,” she sighed. “No makeup though.” There had to be some boundaries with Alice.

Alice determined that nail polish did not constitute make-up. Nor did facials.

"Okay,” she said, “deal. Now go. Take care of yourself.”


	28. With some force

A/N for 2020-02-10: This is a bit of a tough chapter, so if you don't do well with difficult endings, you might want to wait until the next chapter posts. And for those of you who enjoy angst, this baby is all yours (pun intended).

Chaysara worked her magic on this text, and then I fiddled with it, so all errors are my own.

\- Erin

* * *

Bella had submitted with as good a grace as she could muster to Alice’s cosmetic ministrations. Her fingers and toenails were a tasteful dusty rose. She had given an enthusiastic yes to a bath, though, knowing Sarah would be expertly kept. Charlie was tender and loving but not so well versed in keeping Sarah content.

Letting Alice do her nails seemed appropriate compensation.

”We’ll bring her in if she needs you,” Esme said. “You can go and get a good night’s sleep.”

It felt wrong to leave her in someone else’s arms, and Bella’s eyebrows slid closer together, considering the offer.

“She won’t want for anything, Bella,” Esme reassured her. “If she needs you, we’ll bring her. I promise.”

“All right,” Bella said, trying to accept this gift.

“It’s not like we can do this most nights,” Rose called from the couch, flipping through a magazine. “I think Charlie might notice.”

Alice giggled. “Probably not. He’s a horrible snorer.”

Bella laughed too. “True,” she said, walking away, trying to make it look easy. She fooled none of them. “Night all.” She slipped into bed, luxuriating in the special knowledge that she would likely not be woken all night long. It felt guiltily indulgent.

Alice had warned her that the boys would return by early morning and asked coyly if she needed to stand guard at her door.

“I think he’ll respect my privacy, Alice,” Bella’d said.

Alice had blinked at her and said "Okay,” with far less certainty than Bella found reassuring.

But she woke alone, feeling like the world was a new place, rested, and . . . oh, she realized, avoiding touching her chest, needing Sarah.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, she realized she shouldn’t have been surprised when Edward’s voice followed the knock on the door. “Sarah’s ready for you, if you are.”

"Okay,” she called, but then started, seeing him suddenly inside the room.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s fine,” she said, shaking it off. “We’re on your turf.”

He wished she felt more at home than that. “I hope you’d consider it yours, too. You’re always welcome here.”

Bella looked up sharply at this. Had he heard in some roundabout way about Sue and Charlie or perhaps more directly, from the thoughts of others?

He was watching her, too. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable—but you are always welcome here.”

“No,” she said, “you didn’t make me feel uncomfortable. Far from it. It’s just—it’s exactly what Charlie said to me when he and Sue told me their news.”

“News?” he asked.

“They’re getting married,” she said.

“That’s wonderful,” he said, handing Sarah back. “Please give them our congratulations.”

“I will,” she said but wondered how welcome the Cullen’s felicitations would be. She was standing, putting Sarah to the breast.

“Don’t you want to sit?”

“No,” she said, “I’ve mastered the art of standing, sort of walking, and breastfeeding—because otherwise, I’d be sitting all the time. And seeing as I just had the best night’s sleep I’ve had in . . . forever, I’m ready to go find breakfast.”

“Good,” he said. “I have something ready.”

The house was strangely empty. “Where is everyone?” She sat down nervously in the quiet kitchen. 

“Hunting, work, and outside,” Edward said nonchalantly, pulling a plate from the oven. “Careful,” he said. “It’s hot.” His bare hands needed no protection, and Bella put her hand over the plate, checking. Yes, very hot.

“Would you like me to hold her while you eat?” he asked, hands stretched out hopefully. Sarah had eaten quickly and was wide-eyed and alert.

“Please,” Bella said, and handed her back, surprised by the warm touch of his hand. She looked up at him, surprised. “How—?”

“We can absorb heat. We just can’t make it.” He smiled, smoothing Sarah’s hair back as he watched her, absorbed in her thoughts, marvelling at how her hands were trying to grasp and hold.

Bella ate and watched Edward playing with Sarah. He was pacing with her, holding up different objects, moving them back and forth, and grinning when her eyes followed. Every once in a while, she would hear him talking to her, but they were far enough away that she couldn’t catch the words.

She was trying to pinpoint the very complex feelings that were building underneath these observations.

His hands, and those of the others in his family, were capable of a destruction she could barely fathom. Her memories of what had become of James were murky at best, muddled by pain and morphine. The tenderness, though, that Edward’s were showing was what was plucking at hopes buried by grief.

Her own hand went to her stomach, seeking the ghost of Jacob’s touch as if she could find it there.

She swallowed, remembering.

His excitement for Sarah’s arrival had been so . . . exuberant, palpable. He talked about it, longed for it.

That she was able to hold her every day was a guilty piece of grief. She felt it in every joy she cherished, and it wasn’t only because he was gone.

“You’re . . . really good with her,” she said softly.

The emotion in her voice was unmistakable. He didn’t want to provoke it more, so he smiled in reply, keeping his eyes on Sarah. Bella’s heart rate was tightening its rhythm. He wished he knew what was upsetting her.

“Excuse me,” Bella whispered softly, walking away.

He listened to her footsteps, hearing the soft click of the bedroom door.

She had no expectation of real privacy but hoped he would allow her the pretense of it. She let the grief and the guilt have their way with her, spilling themselves into the hand at her mouth and face, both ineffective receptacles.

Edward didn’t knock but entered quietly, setting Sarah down. Bella was sitting on the bed, facing the window, distraught.

It hurt watching her hurt, and as he stood there, frustrated by his past mistakes, his resolve to wait for her snapped.

He put his arm around her, pulling her towards him. She leaned in, body still rocking with emotion. That she accepted this small comfort from him made his own body thrill with the electricity of her touch. She turned towards him, curling herself into his chest, and he pulled her closer.

They both breathed as regularly as they could, for entirely different purposes, letting their bodies acclimate to the other’s.

His body was waking, angry and vitriolic at its enforced quiescence, screaming with desires. He forced his hands to remain still.

Then she tilted her head up, eyes open in what he imagined was want. His restraint evaporated.

His lips over hers were a meeting of fire and ice, she in the familiar shiver of his flesh, and he with the burn of her scent hot in his throat. She freed her hands to find a place at his neck and in his hair.

His own moved along her back, exploring with a most purposeful touch the familiar geography of her body.

She didn’t want it to end, didn’t want him to pull away like she knew he would, and she certainly didn’t want to reckon with her guilt and grief. She just wanted to stay there, burning in this small perfection in time, feeling her body respond to his.

And where it would have ended before, it didn’t. He closed the gap between them, her body’s flesh molding over his. They fell back into the welcome resistance of the bed.

It hadn’t been like this before. He’d been so careful, restrained. She had pushed every boundary and been pushed back without hope of reaching a border. Now, it was her own body warning her, the sparks and trills up her flesh telling her to stop.

When she found air, she used it to tell him as much.

If he didn’t know his hearing was beyond human perfection, he might have doubted it. In that split second, as he considered this pinprick of uncertainty, Bella’s fears blossomed from possibility to panic and then anger.

He was so focused on her that he didn’t see her hand moving. It was only the transformation of her face in conjunction with the sound that made him realize she’d hit him and had likely broken the bones of her hand.

The sound that followed only confirmed this.

He was reciting Alice’s litany inside his head.  _ Idiot! Idiot! Idiot! _

Bella was curled over herself, still making indescribable sounds.

“Please,” he said, “I think it’s broken. Can I check?”

Her anger, though, was just ripening. “No!” she yelled at him.

When she calmed down enough to talk, Bella could see that her options were limited. She couldn’t drive, and she wasn’t certain enough of Jasper’s control to put Sarah in a confined space with him.

Edward apologized for what felt like the hundredth time.

Anger was a much safer emotion to maintain t so she gritted her teeth and used the ample pain in her hand to fuel her fury all the way to the emergency room.

When they walked inside, Edward groaned internally. It was the same resident on duty that had treated Sarah. The young doctor had caught sight of him, and his thoughts were coloured loudly and largely by a precise resentment. Edward had shown him up too well.

There were few other people there, and Bella was seen soon. Edward stayed in the background, Sarah in his arms. Alice and the others would be back soon, but Edward hoped they left him enough time to try and undo the damage he’d done with Bella.

He was so lost in his own stew of self-admonishment that he missed the important connections the resident was making.

“So,” he asked Bella, “how’d you break your hand again?”

“Ask him,” she growled.

“Your boyfriend?” he asked.

“Pfft ,” she said, glowering.

“I’d like to hear it from you, actually.” He tried again, his voice even.

Edward looked up, alarmed, hearing the man’s thoughts.

“I hit him,” she said.

The doctor was carefully moving her arm, looking at her hand. “With some force,” he murmured. “You deal with most of your problems that way?”

_ No _ , Edward thought, _ don’t _ . He was going to open his mouth to intervene, but he was too late.

“Sure,” she snorted.

Edward closed his eyes and thought several very impolite words.

"Okay,” the resident said, “you’ll definitely need an x-ray. I’ll just go get that ready.”

As soon as he was gone, Edward knelt beside her. “Bella?” he said.

“What?” she growled.

He closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry, but he’s going to go get the social worker.”

“Why?” she asked, her heart rate jumping and stuttering.

“Because he’s angry with me.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “And?”

“You just told him you solve your problems by hitting people, Bella.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the social worker: Ashleigh.

Edward hadn’t liked the bent of her thoughts on the first night he’d met her, and he liked them even less now. She was shallow and insipid, fortified by the self-importance of her work. Like . . . and here he groaned mentally, Dr. Carr, her friend—she felt she was above the people she served and was putting in her time in a rural setting so she could eventually move into a city job. Bella’s name was ringing a few bells in her head. She’d made the connection between her and Charlie, and . . . she was on the committee reviewing the complaints about Dr. Carr.

There weren’t enough bad words to express what Edward was thinking or feeling.

Bella, meanwhile, knew the stirrings of an anxious panic in her gut.

Ashleigh was doing her best to put Bella at ease, not with any good intent but because it increased the likelihood of her saying something useful— or incriminating.

As the woman moved through the simple, required questions, Edward could hear that her decision was a foregone conclusion. A chill that he shouldn’t able to feel ran up his back.

Ashleigh stayed while Bella followed the resident to have her hand x-rayed, turning to Edward with her most charming smile, saying, “May I?” holding her arms out for Sarah.

“I think you need to ask her mother that.” He smiled back, not sparing her the wicked curve of his teeth.

She started and moved closer to the door, doubting what she’d seen, but perturbed beyond what her mind would allow her to consider. They waited in awkward silence until Bella returned. She was followed shortly thereafter by the resident. 

This time, though, the young doctor wasn’t alone. Charlie’s colleague Bill followed him through the doorway, the fluorescent light reflecting dully off of his badge.

“Bella?” he said, looking at her in surprise and then the doctor and the social worker.

“Bill? Why are you here?” she asked, confused.

Edward watched with growing dread, still holding Sarah. He moved to Bella and carefully transferred the baby to Bella’s uninjured left arm.

Bill cleared his throat. He hadn’t seen Bella since the funeral. “It’s, um, standard to have an officer attend in cases like this.”

“Cases like what?” she asked, struggling to adjust her grip on Sarah.

Bill looked nervously at the social worker.

Ashleigh was only too happy to explain. Her spoken regrets were dirtily cheerful.

Bella was having trouble breathing.

“Is there a relative who can take care of her while the investigation is underway?”

Edward was done with being silent though. “Sarah’s a breastfed baby—you can’t take her from her mother.”

“She’s allowed to visit her, with supervision, to feed her.”

“At night?”

“During working hours.”

“And at night?” he asked, railing against the woman’s bureaucratic obstinacy.

“She’ll just have to pump,” she shrugged, as if this was inconsequential or simple.

They were twenty minutes into the ugly business when Charlie arrived, harried and out of breath, with a curt nod and a mouthed “Thanks,” to Bill, who looked relieved at his presence.

“What the hell, Jefferson?” Charlie said, looking at the social worker and then gesturing to his daughter and grandchild.

“Don’t,” she said in a tone that told everyone all they needed to know about her insecurity. “You have no standing here,” she said. .

He didn’t, being family, but he didn’t care. “You’re pulling her out on what? Because her mom has a . . . ” and he looked over at Bella, “broken hand?”

Ashleigh nodded, a solid movement indicating her authority.

Charlie snorted in derision.

“The baby’s bruised,” she added and jerked her chin towards Sarah’s forehead.

Charlie was an unhealthy shade of red. “Fine,” he said.

Bella opened her mouth to protest.

“No,” he said, holding up a hand towards her and addressing Bella in a soft voice. “Trust me.” Then, with a hardness in his voice directed to the other woman in the room, he said, “This is all going to be  _ fine _ . This very  _ experienced _ and  _ qualified _ social worker is going to take your baby away so she can fully investigate her home environment and circumstances. You got nothing to hide, right Bella?”

_ Just a pack of werewolves and several vampires. Nope, nothing. _

“No,” she whispered.

“And if we have a complaint about how this was handled, of course, you’ll wait until that three-day investigation is done because launching one now would slow down that investigation, right?”

Bella nodded, hoping her trust in her father was not misplaced.

He turned his attention back to Ashleigh. “Of course, you’re going to place the baby in the care of a relative, yes?”

“Of course.” Ashleigh smiled. “And that would be?”

“Billy Black.”

Charlie gave Bella a warning look, seeing the face she was making.

“And he’s her . . . ?”

“Paternal grandfather,” Bella whispered.

Edward was trying to control his own panic. They wouldn’t be able to protect her, not there.

Bella was trying to figure out how Billy was going to take care of Sarah.

“And is he capable of taking care of an infant?” Ashleigh asked, the smile fading now that she was working through a small stack of paper.

“Yes,” Charlie said confidently. “He has lots of friends and family to help him.”

The Clearwaters, Edward could hear in his thoughts. They would help. He shuddered internally, thinking of the wolves so near Sarah.

Shortly after, Edward left briefly to retrieve the rest of Sarah’s car seat. When he returned, it was to see Charlie trying to coax Bella to hand Sarah over. She’d been trying to wake her to nurse her, but she slept in spite of her mother’s efforts.

Bella’s breathing was erratic, and Edward could tell that her control was loosening rapidly.

He knelt down on the other side from Charlie and said softly, “Would it be easier if you gave her to one of us first?”

She nodded and, leaning down to kiss Sarah and inhale her sweet scent, gave her to Charlie, who made his own valiant effort at control, and walked out with Ashleigh, whispering croakily to his granddaughter.

The resident, less smug now for seeing what he had unleashed, left, mumbling something about x-rays.

Bella’s breaths were violent and uncontrolled, tied together with wracking sobs. She didn’t hesitate when Edward offered her his arm, turning into his chest.

When the young doctor returned, he stood uncertainly at the door, knocking. It was Bella who told him to leave, using words that did not colour her vocabulary often.

He left and found enough wisdom to summon Carlisle in his place.

Edward was talking her through what would happen and trying to reassure her when Carlisle arrived with Charlie.

The surprise in Carlisle’s thoughts was equivalent to the anger in Charlie’s face.

Charlie spared no words for Edward but turned to Bella. “I’m going to make sure Billy has everything he needs and then come back home so we can get you down there at least once today, okay?”

She nodded. “Thank you, Dad.”

“Everything will be fine. Sarah will be just fine. This’ll be over in a few days, okay?”

She kept nodding and hoping and hoping and hoping.

When they were alone, Carlisle squeezed her good hand. “Let’s get this set, okay?” he said softly.

“All right,” Bella said, rubbing her nose on her shoulder.

Edward’s arm was still around her, bracing her body against his own, trying to protect her against all the things that would come next.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	29. A limb amputated

Walking back to the car, Bella was mindful of Edward’s hovering hand, which didn’t touch her, but whose presence suggested connection. And then she was mindful of her own empty hands, one broken, and one not. She had nothing to carry, having given the diaper bag to Charlie. Her wallet and keys fit snugly into her jacket pockets.

Her face felt as ashen as Edward’s, and as they sat in the car, their eyes met in the rearview mirror. 

“I’m so sorry, Bella,’ Edward said.

Still shocked at what had just happened, she nodded, but didn’t say anything. 

“I shouldn’t have done what I did—”

“And I shouldn’t have said what I did to the doctor.” She shouldn’t have. It had been stupid. She shook her head. She wasn’t sure what had come over her. It wasn’t like she’d been tired. She’d just been . . . overcome with feelings. And as she brought her gaze to rest on her casted hand, she made herself take stock of just what she had been feeling. Anger, yes, but it only hid the harder things that wanted feeling. Pleasure. A warmth bled up her cheeks as she remembered how Edward’s touch had tangled with other emotions. Guilt for having pleasure when Jake was gone. So much guilt. She stole a glance at Edward but quickly returned it to her lap. Hurt. Edward had left and left her wanting in so many ways even before he left. And now he was back and everything had changed. 

But he was here, and he’d been trying to help her in a myriad of ways.

And he was very quiet, Bella realized. She recalled, after his many apologies to her, how she’d snapped at him, telling him to stop. He’d obviously felt so badly, and she’d been so rude.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” she said.

Edward seemed to swallow before he spoke. “I don’t think you have anything to apologize for, Bella, considering the problems I’ve just caused for you and Sarah.”

“You’ve been trying to help us, Edward. And I am sorry for snapping. You didn’t deserve it.” She meant it, and she meant much more, too, but the loss and urgency of Sarah’s absence were pressing in again.

Edward seemed to sense this. “We should go,” he said softly.

She only had to nod, and he started the car.

When they walked inside the house, it was clear that Charlie had been there already. The playmat was gone as well as the mat they used for changing her diaper downstairs. There was a basket of clean laundry, obviously rifled through, sitting on the dining room table.

Bella felt like she’d been robbed.

Mostly because she had been.

She sat down on the couch, not sure what to do with herself. Everything over the last few months had centred around what Sarah needed. It was like having a limb amputated, feeling its ghostly presence and needs, but then looking and finding it gone.

The pain of Sarah’s absence, though, was very real.

It must have been very obvious because Edward sat gingerly beside her, a tentative hand on her arm. “She’s safe with Billy,” he said. “He loves her.”

She nodded, “I know.” The tears hadn’t really stopped since she’d given Sarah to Charlie, but they were waxing again.

She didn’t resist when he pulled her to him, wrapping her in both his arms.

“It might help,” he said softly, “if you make a plan for the next few days.”

“How?” she asked, pulling back, wiping her face. “I need to be close to her. I’m not sure how I’m going to do this.” She looked around the house as if overwhelmed by what it presented.

“You can drive there,” he said. “I’ll leave you the car.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he spoke again more firmly.

“I will leave you the car. I would drive you myself, but I can’t.” He had both hands still on her arms, facing her, and his own shoulders softened bit, seeing her nod, even reluctantly.

“What are some things you can do between visits there?” he asked.

But Bella was sliding backwards into herself, allowing the many horrific and terrifying possibilities of the investigation to overwhelm the immediate future. “What if—?

“Don’t think about it,” he said softly. “It helps . . . it helped me when I was away.” Here, his own voice shuddered under the weight of that remembered difficulty. “I just thought about the next thing I was going to do. That way, it was manageable. Thinking about everything after that . . . ” He swallowed. “Just focus on the thing you can do next.”

Bella did, compiling a very small list of tasks that needed her attention, but the power of her now maternal body to speculate in worry and uneasy possibility won over, and she was again trying to find the air she needed.

Edward felt a wave of thirsty vengefulness. It was so easy to envision grisly ends for the people who’d hurt Bella—who’d taken Sarah. These feelings evaporated when she turned her body into the comfort of his arms.

He pulled her carefully to him, so she rested, her small body curled over his. He made a low murmur of reassurances to her and to himself. “We’ll fix this. She’ll be fine. We’ll get a lawyer involved if we need to. It’ll only be a few days, and she’ll be home with you. I promise.”

He felt guilty, feeling the relief of holding her, but it was nothing compared to the stinging culpability she carried.

Edward heard Charlie’s approach before she did.

“Your dad’s almost home,” he said, holding her and feeling her nod.

They were still that way when Charlie walked in the door. He didn’t react but stood, hands at his sides, uncertain, before he spoke. “Bella,” he said, “we can visit from one to four today, so we should get going pretty soon.”

She nodded, unfurling herself. "Okay,” she said, “I’ll just get a few things ready.”

Edward’s insides clenched. He would have to leave her, at least temporarily. “I’ll drop the car by later.”

“Right,” she answered, ignoring Charlie’s quizzical look. “Thank you.” Squeezing his hand, she turned and left to run up the stairs.

Charlie lost no time. “A word outside,” he said, leading the way back out the front door.

Edward followed, and Charlie turned smartly to face him as soon as the door was closed. He had a good idea of what was coming from Bella’s father.

“I just wanted to talk about where things stand,” Charlie said.

Edward nodded, hearing the general bent of his thoughts.

“You are the man who broke my daughter’s heart and then left her in the woods, alone. She got lost, and I had to mount a frickin’ search party to find her.”

There wasn’t much Edward could say to this, so he kept his response simple. “I am.”

“And now,” Charlie went on, “you’re the man who just happened to be there when her baby got taken from her.”

“Yes,” Edward said.

“She’s a grown woman,” Charlie said, looking down, scuffing a stray leaf off the porch. “Her friends are her own business.” He looked up at him. “And she seems to want you around.” This was said in a way that made it clear that he didn’t appreciate or agree with her preferences. “But if you hurt her or Sarah in any way, or if it so much as seems like you’ve hurt her, I will use every resource at my disposal to remove you from their lives.”

Edward waited a moment to make sure Charlie was done.

“There is no excuse for what I’ve done,” Edward started.

Charlie interrupted him with a contemptuous grunt.

“And I am the first to lay blame at my feet. I was wrong—stupid, foolish, idiotic. It was the worst decision I could have made to leave her.” He made sure he had Charlie’s eyes for this next statement. “She knows that, and that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make up for what I’ve put her through.”

Charlie said nothing, still glowering at him. He put his hands in his pockets, though, his stance slightly more relaxed.

Edward blew out a breath before he added more fuel to Charlie’s fire.

“What happened today was my fault, too.”

Charlie shook his head and rolled his eyes, blowing out a breath in exasperation.

Edward went on to explain what Charlie already knew in part, had heard from the rumour-mill that clunked into his work at the hospital. “When I helped Bella before, I made the resident look bad. I wasn’t trying to, but he took it that way. Today he took his anger with me out on Bella, and then he asked her some very leading questions. If I hadn’t done that—” and he sighed— “Sarah would still be here.”

Charlie hadn’t expected Edward to be so up front about the damage he’d caused. He didn’t fault him for what the resident had done—some people were just jerks. But he didn’t want to let him off the hook either. “You can say sorry all you want or that you’re responsible. It doesn’t make this better.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he said calmly. “But I think you know how I feel about Bella and why I’m here. I’ll do everything I can to help her and Sarah. And I will keep doing it until  _ she _ tells me to stop—not you.” The challenge was clear.

Charlie didn’t like it, but knew where he had ground to stand on and where he didn’t, so he switched tactics, probing other weaknesses. “What happened to her hand?”

Edward paused before answering, taking a moment to appreciate Charlie’s intelligence. And his own stupidity from the morning. “Bella hit me.”

Charlie laughed, a sort of barking snort. “Was that you helping her?” he asked.

“I’ll let you ask her that,” Edward said. They’d barely discussed, and he hoped they soon would. At least, after Sarah was returned ot her mother. “I expect Bella might need you. I’ll go, but I’ll be back later to drop off the car for her.” Seeing Charlie’s look, he said, “So she can get there herself.”

Charlie wondered why Edward wasn’t offering to drive Bella but didn’t ask. He concluded that Edward might be wisely giving her some space. He begrudgingly approved.

“If there’s anything else I can do, or my family, please tell us. I know they’ll be very upset to hear this—Alice and Esme, especially.”

Charlie grunted in acknowledgement. It was the most accepting sound he’d made during their exchange.

Edward left, leaving Charlie to mull over what the boy had said. His ruminations lasted long after Edward’s car disappeared out of sight.

Bella opened the door, drawing her father from his slowly changing perspective on Edward Cullen. “I’m ready,” she said.

“Good.” He nodded towards her, wondering what she was thinking about the boy who’d just left. But instead of asking, he looked in the direction of the Quileute reservation and said, “Let’s go.”

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	30. A Broken Offering

Charlie and Bella were waiting outside Billy’s house in the car. Bella could hear Sarah’s cries inside.

“You’re  _ positive _ we can’t go in?” she asked, hands gripping the seat.

“Yes,” Charlie said, watching her with worry, grimacing at Sarah’s frenzied wail.

They were both on edge by the time the social worker finally showed up.

“Hi, Charlie,” an unfamiliar woman called, getting out of her car. “Sorry. I came as quick as I could.”

“Thanks, Moira,” Charlie said softly. “Can we go in?” he asked, hand gesturing towards the house.

“Yes, let’s,” she said, frowning at sounds of distress.

Bella walked inside as fast as she could, taking Sarah from a relieved looking Billy, fumbling to get her to the breast as quickly as possible. She was crying herself, anxious and relieved, all at once.

Moira was looking over the paperwork she’d rushed to pick up at the hospital and then at Bella, frowning. She looked at Charlie again, who shrugged by way of explanation. Moira took a deep breath in and then let it out. “Almost eight weeks?”

Charlie nodded.

"Okay,” she said. “Hi, Bella. I’m Moira. I’m one of the area workers assigned to your case.”

Bella barely spared attention for Moira, giving her a curt nod, trying to hold Sarah awkwardly in her one good arm. 

“I need to come have a look at her, okay ?”

Bella looked at her sharply, worried she would try to take her.

“Just look. That’s all.” She smiled gently. Seeing Bella struggling, she picked up one of the couch cushions, handing it to her, so she could position Sarah more easily.

Bella gave a quiet, “Thanks,” but still looked nervous.

“She’s just checking Sarah’s bruise,” Charlie murmured. “She has to.”

Moira smiled at Bella and then at Sarah, seeing the small discoloration on her forehead. “How’d she get that?” 

“I had her on my chest,” Bella said, her voice still husky and raw. “She’s getting some head control and banged her forehead on me.” She pulled down the collar of her shirt, showing off the matching, yellowish mark.

“Yes,” Moira said, “those are pretty common with babies this age.” She made a note in her file. “Folks, give us a minute, please?” she smiled at Charlie and Billy.

“Sure,” Billy said, jerking his head at Charlie. “Come on.” They headed into the kitchen, shutting the door.

“And your hand?” Moira asked. “How’d that happen?”

Bella blushed and sighed. “I hit someone.”

“And who did you hit?”

“Edward Cullen.”

“And he is . . . ?”

_ Good question. _

“We . . . used to see each other. He’s . . . it’s—I don’t know.”

“Understood,” Moira said softly.

Bella wished she did herself.

“And why’d you hit him?”

Her face became warmer.

“I  _ do _ need an answer. I can see this is difficult to talk about.”

Bella swallowed, stroking the soft down of Sarah’s hair. “Her father died a few months ago. Edward’s just recently come back into the picture, and he kissed me,” she said, sighing. “It was fine, and then it wasn’t, and I was very upset. I shouldn’t have—”

“Thank you,” Moira said. “It sounds like things have been very stressful.”

“Yes,” Bella said. “Having my baby taken from me hasn’t helped.”

“Yes,” Moira said, acknowledging her. “This is . . . exceptionally rare.” She shook her head, eyeing the case notes. “Exceptionally rare to take a baby this age . . . for this. However, we are obliged to investigate this social worker’s concerns.”

Moira asked other, easier-to-answer questions and explained in more detail what would happen over the next few days. She invited Charlie and Billy back in after a few minutes.

“So,” she began, “if we can schedule things roughly, that would be helpful. Bella, when does Sarah usually nurse?”

Bella’s eyebrows pulled together, and she shrugged. “Every few hours, whenever she’s hungry.”

“On demand,” Moira mumbled to herself, grimacing a bit. "Okay. This is probably going to be my only case tomorrow, so, if it’s all right with you, Mr. Black, I can make myself available from nine to four tomorrow for supervised visitation.”

Bella wanted to cry with relief. She held it back. Just.

“Any time,” Billy said. 

Charlie nodded his thanks, also relieved.

The rest of the visit passed unremarkably for everyone but Bella, who felt like the clock was counting down on her being able to breathe. She would look at Sarah’s sleeping form in her arms, and then back up at the clock. She’d never realized just how loud Billy’s kitchen clock was.

A few minutes before four, Bella heard the gravelly crunch of an approaching car.

“That’ll be Leah,” Billy said, more for Bella’s benefit than anyone else’s. “She’s comin’ to spend the night and help out.”

Bella nodded, her jaw tight. This was good, she told herself. Billy would need help, even with Sarah in the bassinet by his bed.

When she walked in the house, Leah surprised Bella with a hard hug, taking the opportunity to whisper, “She’ll be fine. We’ll keep her safe.”

Bella nodded, but Leah wasn’t done. “Call the stinkers when you’re on your way back.”

Bella’s eyes flew to meet hers, the silent question in them.

“Sam thought it would be wise.” Leah shrugged.

“What’re you two cackling about over there?” Billy called.

“Girl stuff, Billy. Unless you want to help Sarah nurse?” Leah snapped back.

Billy’s face turned a deep, bronzy brown, and he looked pointedly away.

“Why?” Bella asked, her hands tight over Sarah.

“Just being careful,” Leah said.

Bella knew better than to ask more, but her hands felt like they were starting to rattle over Sarah. If Leah was here to do more than help . . . what if—she stopped the thought. She couldn’t contemplate it, not having Sarah with her.

"Okay, Bella,” Charlie said, seeing Moira starting to pack up. “We need to go.”

Her heart began to thump loudly in her chest. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t leave. 

Billy pushed himself over to come beside her. “You know,” he said lightly, “when I said I wanted to spend more time with her, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

She choked out something that was half sob, half laugh.

Trust Billy to make a joke about this.

So like Jacob.

The band at her chest tightened even more, and the laughter died, leaving only the sob.

“Come on,” Charlie said, putting his arm around her. His voice was shaky now too.

Sarah went from Bella’s arms to Billy’s without protest. “Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered. “We’ll call this the first of your sleepovers with Grandpa, hey?”

Bella left as quickly as she could, hands tight around herself as they drove home. She only broke her fervent concentration to text Edward. It was beginning to snow, and she focused on the flakes she could catch with her eyes, sticking them individually to the windshield, watching them being swept away by the wipers.

Charlie was dying to ask her why she’d hit Edward, but the careful rigidity of her pose told him it wasn’t the time.

When they pulled up at home, Edward’s car was there.

Charlie made a low grunt, seeing it.

“Dad,” Bella said, “please don’t. Just . . . can you keep it to yourself for now?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said softly. He was feeling torn up inside, watching her be ripped up by what had happened. If the Cullen boy helped . . . well, he’d tolerate him for her sake If he had to—or now.

Charlie walked ahead, giving Bella some time.

“How is she?” Edward asked, handing her the car keys.

“She’s fine,” Bella said, pocketing them. “Leah’s spending the night.”

Edward swallowed visibly but kept his worries otherwise hidden. “Good,” he managed to say.

“Why does she need to spend the night, Edward?” she asked him. She almost didn’t want to, not being able to stay by Sarah.

“It’s just a precaution. We can’t be there ourselves, and I don’t want to take any chances. I don’t think anything is going to happen, but . . .” His voice trailed off.

“I see,” she said, breathing out a little. She could live with it being a precaution.

The silence and the snow stretched between them. She stuck her hands into her armpits. It was cold outside.

“Can we talk about what happened this morning?” Edward asked.

Bella’s first thoughts in response to this question were logistical ones: did she have time? It was the question she asked herself whenever Sarah’s immediate demands had been met. Realizing that her time was her own for now, she blinked twice before answering. “Yes, but let’s go inside.” 

She began walking upstairs to her room, knowing Edward’s footsteps were following. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Charlie eyeing them, opening his mouth as if to say something, but then closing it. 

“I don’t think Charlie’s very happy about me being up here,” Edward said when they reached her room.

“Not my problem,” Bella replied.

“I suppose not,” Edward mumbled, looking around the room. He seemed ill at ease. 

Bella sat down on the bed, and he joined her a safe distance apart. “I’m sorry for this morning. I shouldn’t have kissed you. You were upset, and I didn’t intend for that to be the outcome.” He sounded a little like he was babbling. “I think you understand how I feel about you.”

“Yes, I do,” she said.

Edward nodded at her, his face pinched with focus. “Please excuse me for asking what may seem like a question with an obvious answer, but Bella, why did you hit me--I mean, I know why, but why  _ hit _ me?”

She flushed, embarrassed. “It wasn’t exactly a logically planned move, Edward.”

“I appreciate that, but there must be a reason. You’re not an irrational person.”

She closed her eyes and put her hands on her lap.  _ He might as well know now, _ she thought. There was a stab at the idea. It would mean ending . . . whatever this was. Yes, he might have feelings, but that was no reason to let him have hope for what couldn’t be. She needed to be clear, for his sake, as well as her own.

“When you left,” she began, eyes on the carpet, missing his small flinch, “I didn’t handle it very well. I wasn’t . . .  _ well _ .”

Edward nodded. He’d seen enough. It was painful just remembering those thoughts he’d caught from others.

“And Jacob, well . . . he was here for me. He helped me. A lot.” She swallowed. “But he wanted more. It took me a long time to let it be more. I warned him about what . . . about what he was getting.”

Edward cocked his head at her use of the word, ‘warning.’

“I don’t think you understood, when you were here before, just how different you and I are,” Bella said. “We’re not the same.”

Edward’s eyebrows were still knit together, but he nodded curtly, not agreeing but indicating he listening.

“I think the words I used with Jake to describe me were ‘broken’ and ‘irreparable.’”

“You think you’re broken?” Edward finally asked, his tone incredulous.

“I know I am.” She shook her head. “Normal people don’t do what I did, Edward, when you left. It wasn’t . . . healthy.”

Edward didn’t agree with any of this but looked at her waiting for more explanation.

“And this morning—” she stopped, blushing deeply and sighing—“I couldn’t, with Jacob—I couldn’t  _ be _ . . . with him.” The flush had run to her hair, making it look lighter than it was against the sudden darkness of her skin.

Edward was utterly confused.

He rephrased what he thought he understood. “You weren’t intim—?”

“No,” she said quickly, voice raspy.

Edward asked the obvious question. “And Sarah?”

“Just the once,” she said very quietly. Her face was hot with embarrassment.

“And this morning?” He wanted to understand the connection.

This seemed easier for her to answer. “I was scared. You . . . seemed so . . . unrestrained. I—”

“I frightened you.”  _ Of course _ , he thought.  _ I was such a fool—! _

“No,” she said. “I just couldn’t . . . I didn’t want to have what happened—” and here her tears stopped further words.

Edward was still confused but stretched out his hand to touch hers.

“I didn’t want to feel broken—with you,” she finally managed to say.

“You’re not broken, Bella,” he said softly.

She made another derisive sound.

“You’re not,” he said again. “Did you ever consider that perhaps you just weren’t . . . ready?”

“You’d think,” she said, “that being prepared to have a child with someone would speak to your level of commitment.”

“Yes,” he admitted, “to commitment, but not intimacy, no.”

She shook her head.

“Bella,” he said, looking at her, “you’re wrong. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

She kept her eyes down, giving her head another minute shake. He had no idea. He hadn’t been here.

“I love you,” he said.

This released more tears.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Bella. Please let me prove you wrong.”

She looked up at him at these words. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“Let me love you,” he said. “Give us a chance.”

Despite the rest from the night before, she was exhausted, and as she looked at his hand over hers—because she didn’t dare bring her eyes to his face—she considered what it would be like to be with him again. She tried to remember what it was like before but without success. The thought of such love was stained with the anxious guilt that tugged at the back of every kiss Jacob had given her.

“And if you’re wrong?” she asked. “What then?”

“I’m not giving up,” he said quietly. “I won’t leave you, Bella. I love you. I never stopped, and I never will.” There were no qualifiers.

Her whispered "Okay,” was a daring leap into the unknown. It carried with it all the guilty weight of worry she’d worn with Jacob and more. She was a broken offering.

He didn't risk kissing her but pulled her gently into an embrace, breathing in the scent of her hair. “You have no idea how happy you’ve made me,” he murmured.

“I hope you don’t regret it,” she said, her face full of worry.

“Never,” he said. “I love you. Get used to hearing it.” He smiled.

She let herself give a tiny smile back and looked up at him. It was like walking into a ray of sunshine.

But Edward sighed, hearing a car approach. “Esme’s here,” he said, squeezing her good hand.

“Why?” Bella asked, not alarmed but surprised.

“She wanted to help, so she brought dinner. She’s quite worried about you all.”

Bella started to stand, hearing the knock at the door. “Wait,” he said gently, “let Charlie get it.” She sat down again, looking sideways at him, but hearing the low murmur of voices and Esme’s voice, distinctly bounded by the closing of the the door, made her eyebrows rise in surprise. Charlie had invited her in.

“She wanted to mend some fences with your father, and she has for a while now. I asked her to wait, but,” he said a little uncertainly, “she wouldn’t today.”

“It’s good,” Bella said. “Dad liked her the few times they met.”

A thaw in relations between the Cullens and Charlie was taking some of the stress of her immediate concerns away.

“Things  _ will _ get better, Bella,” Edward said.

She nodded but wondered, too, at the many ways they could not, or how much worse they would get before they got better.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	31. A useful thing

Pain was a useful thing.

Bella was exploring the shape and texture of the pain in her arm. It was soft and palpable—gritty even, like the wet sand that bordered the water and the rocks of the beach. It could suck your foot in so easily with its regular waves until suddenly, you were buried in it.

The pain was a safe place though. She had learned to use it effectively in Edward’s time away. It smothered other, less controllable sensations and feelings.

She was using it now. It helped. Sarah’s absence was less acute.

The ringing of the phone by her bed interrupted this meditative exercise.

“Hello,” she said, voice rough with the early morning.

“Hey,” Charlie’s voice said. “Sorry to wake you.”

“Dad?” Bella said, wondering where he was that he was calling her.

“Yeah, I got called out pretty early this morning.”

“Everything okay?” she asked, fairly sure it wasn’t.

“No,” he said. “Another animal attack. I just wanted to make sure you were up and ready for Moira.”

She shivered despite the warmth of the room. “Of course,” Bella said, making her voice sound normal. She looked at the clock. It was six. Moira was due at seven thirty for their home inspection.

“Sue’s free today if you need anything. I’m sorry I can’t be there—”

“Dad, it’s okay. I get it. It’ll be fine.”

“All right,” he said. “Moira’s pretty sensible. You don’t have anything to worry about. Just answer her questions when she’s there. I have every confidence Sarah’s coming home Tuesday morning.”

The sudden lump in her throat made her “‘kay”” come out as a whisper.

“Love you, Bells.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

She put the phone down and lay back into the bed, focusing on her arm again.

The pain there was making her think about other pains. She remembered with a sudden and florid blush the mortifying conversation with Edward from the night before. She shifted away from it, recalling that night from almost a year ago.

She hadn’t minded that pain.

It had been a safe place too.

Jacob had, though. She’d seen it in his face, the curve of his eyebrows a perfect inversion of his mouth.

“It’s okay,” she’d whispered, but the grip of her fingers did not assure him. Their movements were just slipping over from the sting of her discomfort when she realised what it had been keeping at bay.

_ Enough _ , she told herself, and threw off the covers. She got up, showered, dressed, and made herself eat something.

_ Next steps _ , she repeated in her mind.  _ Next steps. _

She should tidy up.

So she did, and by just after seven was confident that Moira would at least not think they were entirely slovenly. This was good because Moira was early, and Bella felt her heart skip beats as she ran to get to the door.

It wasn’t Moira though. It was Edward.

“Hi,” she said, startled, but not unpleasantly so. The skipping beats had reinserted themselves, making her heart thud loudly at the sight of him.

“Good morning,” he murmured. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted someone with you for this. Alice says Moira will be a few minutes late.”

“Please,” Bella said. The possibilities unlocked by their conversation last night were making it hard to think coherently. The lack of sleep wasn’t helping either. She’d been up several times to pump and store the milk for Sarah.

He took her hand as she stepped back from the door to let him in, not letting her go. “How’re you doing?” he asked softly, rubbing his fingers over those of her good hand.

“Tired,” she said. “Holding it together.” She shrugged. “Trying to believe people when they tell me this will be over in a few days. I don’t suppose Alice—?”

Edward smiled at her. “She can’t see Sarah, but she did see you and me together, happy, and that there was still snow on the ground.”

Bella looked outside at the snow there. “It’s rare for it to last long.”

“Mmm,” he said, “so it could be a good sign.”

Bella nodded hopefully. “Maybe.”

“How can I help you today?” he asked.

“Keep me company?” she said, eyebrows furrowed, thinking of seeing Sarah and then having to leave her again.

“I hadn’t imagined not being here,” he said softly, pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

She wondered if arrhythmia felt this way, hearing her breathing quicken. Her habit was to retreat from the contact, keep herself safe, but she forced herself to relax. She’d said she would give this a chance.

It was intensely conflicting, knowing the pulls of desire, caution, fear . . . and guilt.

“Is there anything I can do for you while you’re gone?” he asked. .

She thought for a minute. “Keep Charlie safe,” she said. “I don’t know where he is, but he said there was another . . . animal attack.”

Edward nodded. “Emmett and Jasper are there.” Seeing her quizzical look, he continued. “They followed him out this morning.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling the acute relief, knowing that he was safe.

Edward was watching her, still holding her hand, wanting very much to kiss her. He didn’t and he didn’t ask, promising himself he would wait for her. It was a promise he wanted to keep, but worried he wouldn’t be able to.

It was his turn to be relieved when he heard Moira’s car approaching. It would not do to have Bella distracted now, but it might later.

“Can I take you out tonight? Distract you with dinner?” he asked. “Maybe a trip to the bookstore?”

She smiled. It was wonderful to see. “Yes, please. Both would be lovely.” She didn’t need to add, “with you.”

Edward let her hand go reluctantly when she went to answer the door.

“Morning, Bella,” Moira said. “Ready to get started?”

“Sure,” she said, inviting her in.

Moira paused, visibly taken aback when she saw Edward. “Hi,” she managed to say. “You’re . . . ?”

“Edward Cullen,” he said quietly, trying to appear as undaunting as possible. He wasn’t very successful.

Moira looked utterly flustered, blushing noticeably.

Bella felt a pang of sympathy for the woman and then an unexpected and violent wash of jealousy. She made herself take a deep breath in and pushed it slowly out. “Shall I give you the grand tour?” she asked.

“Please,” Moira said, pulling out her file, trying to recover. “Will you be staying, Mr. Cullen?” she asked.

“If Bella wants, yes.”

“Dad got called away this morning,” Bella said by way of explanation, “Edward came for moral support.”

Moira pointedly avoided looking at Bella’s hand, keeping her gaze settled on the safe neutrality of her paper. “I’m glad you have support, Bella. Why don’t we get started then, so you can get to your baby sooner.”

This made Bella’s stomach squirm uneasily. She wanted to see her, but she worried already about how she would handle leaving her.

They went quickly through the house, Moira more than satisfied with everything.

Bella gathered the rest of what she needed for Sarah, Moira going ahead of her by a few minutes. “If she’s hungry, should I have him hold off on feeding her?” she asked.

Bella frowned. If she said no, did that count against her? She wanted to nurse Sarah, badly.

Moira could see her conundrum. “It’s not a trick question, Bella. I know you want to nurse her. I just need to know what to tell Mr. Black.”

“Please, if she isn’t too upset. I’ll only be a few minutes behind you.”

“Sure,” she said, smiling.

Bella grabbed the breast pump to put in her bag, just in case.

“Mind if I drive?” Edward asked.

“But, you can’t—”

“Sam’s meeting us at the boundary,” he said.

“He is?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Why?” she asked, this time with her eyes narrowed.

“Because I asked him to.”

“And why did you ask him to?”

“I want to make sure we’re clear on our priorities and a few other details.”

She lifted an eyebrow at this. “Is that a polite way of saying ‘pissing match’?”

Edward grinned. He hadn’t seen much of her sense of humour. “No,” he said. “We’ve talked before, but it’s . . . easier for us to talk if you’re there.”

Bella understood what else would be communicated by that meeting as well. “I haven’t told Charlie about us yet,” she said quietly, “and he needs to hear it first from me. Then I can tell Billy and and everyone else.”

“I have no plans to say anything,” he said innocently.

“It wasn’t the spoken words I was worried about,” she said, sitting down in the passenger side as he opened the door. She knocked her hand, reaching for the seatbelt, and he frowned at her hissed breath.

Sliding in the driver’s side, he looked at her injured hand and reached over, fingering it gently. “That must hurt a lot,” he said.

She shrugged.

“When you had Sarah,” he said softly, “you refused pain medication.”

She looked up at him, caught off guard. He would know, she supposed, thinking about when they’d arrived.

“And you did again yesterday,” he said. It wasn’t a judgment. He spoke carefully, his tone communicating a neutral observation.

He had started the car by this point, moving swiftly onto the road. It still unnerved her to have him reverse without looking.

“And?” she said.

“I heard your explanation to your midwife,” he said softly. He had slipped his hand under her uninjured one. “I wondered if it was for the same reasons.”

She took a slow breath in and then let it out. _ Be honest _ , she told herself. “Yes.”

"Okay,” he said and kept driving.

She looked at him directly, and he looked back, eyebrows up as if waiting for her to talk. When he said nothing else, she looked away again, feeling confused. He would have pressed in the past. Pushed.

He’d made good time—without violating state laws—and Sam’s tall shape was soon in sight, leaning casually against a tree at the road’s snow-covered shoulder. Edward opened the door for her, offering his hand so she wouldn’t hurt hers again. She took it, and even at a distance, could see Sam’s eyebrows go up as he watched.

So much for telling Charlie first.

As they approached, Edward kept hold of her hand, more firmly than she thought necessary, but then she realized he was keeping her just slightly back from him, like he wanted a bit more distance between her and Sam.

“Hey, Sam,” Bella said, pulling her hand away from Edward’s, and giving Sam a hug.

“Hey, yourself,” he said. “You holding up okay?” 

_ Not really _ , she thought but nodded anyway. Few people wanted the uglier truths.

“I’ll take her from here,” Sam said.

Edward’s face betrayed nothing, but his stillness spoke volumes.

Bella’s eyes danced back and forth between them, suddenly nervous at the charged air.

“I thought it might be good for us to speak for a moment,” Edward said.

“I’ll call you later,” Sam said, looking at Bella pointedly and then turning and effectively dismissing him. “You want to drive, Bella?” he asked, nodding at her hand.

“Call me when you come back,” Edward said to her. “I’ll be here.” Then he was gone. She felt a momentary panic and struggled to smooth out the twist in her gut. He would be there later, she told herself. He’d said he would.

“Bella?” Sam asked. “You driving or me?”

“Do you mind?” she said, distracted.

His nose wrinkled when he got in the car, but he didn’t say anything. Sam was, at best, taciturn. He made for easy company, and the ride to Billy’s was quick.

“I’ll be outside. Seth’ll be by later to spell me. We’ll stay out of your way.”

Bella wanted to say that they were welcome but decided against it. They weren’t there for social calls. Perhaps it would be best to have fewer people around with the social worker there.

Sarah was awake and alert when she got there. Billy was pleased with himself. He’d managed to cajole Sarah into an early bottle so she’d be ready for Bella when she came.

“Thank you,” she said, hugging him as she took Sarah in her arms.

She tried very hard not to cry, feeling her there again.

Moira busied herself with paperwork and notes, staying in view but largely leaving Bella to Billy’s company.

“Sue’s coming with lunch,” he said, “but I made the pièce de résistance.” He grinned.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Bella asked, laughing a little, rewrapping Sarah’s blanket.

“Jello, of course,” he said, turning to go to the kitchen.

Bella’s stomach lurched, and she could feel the blood draining from her face.

“Jake’s favourite,” he said, a little more subdued.

_ Yes _ , Bella thought.  _ It was _ .

“Don’t know what the kid was thinking. We have tonnes of the stuff. Do you like Jello, too, or something?” Billy called from the kitchen.

Bella cleared her throat, forcing the words out. “Not really, no,” she called back.

“Huh,” he said. “Well, do me favour and have some today.”

“Sure, Billy,” Bella said. 

The night had gone well for Sarah, and neither Billy nor Leah was too worse for the wear. “Still got the touch,” Billy said, quite self-satisfactorily but then grinned widely at Bella. “But I’ll be glad to be going back to just being grandpa on Tuesday morning, if you don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Billy,” Bella said softly, “for doing this.”

“‘Course,” he said. “Any of us would.” By ‘any,’ she understood who. She was grateful.

It was easier to leave this time, knowing Sarah had been well-cared for. 

“Get a good night’s sleep, hey,” Billy said, “because tomorrow, I’m going to take a nap while you’re here.”

She laughed. Always with the jokes. She wondered if Sarah would be like that.

“And Bella,” he said, coming close, taking Sarah, “remember who Sarah’s family is. They’re yours too”

These words should have been a comfort, but they chilled her, settling icily in her stomach. She swallowed, smiling uneasily, and nodded.

Edward met her at the boundary line, stepping into view at the road’s shoulder. He opened the driver’s side door and smiled, offering her a hand.

“That much confidence in my driving, hmm?”

“Tonnes,” he smiled, “but I drive faster.”

“You in a rush?” she asked, trying to keep things light.

“Yes,” he said, “to whisk you away to more exciting locales. Dinner, remember?”

“I think four thirty might be a bit early for dinner,” Bella quipped but moved to the passenger side.

“So,” she said, “how’d it go with Sam?”

“It didn’t,” he said frowning a little. “He hasn’t returned my call yet.”

That did not bode well. Billy’s words were still loose in her mind. She knew Sam and Edward tolerated each other, but she also knew the depth of their enmity, Sam’s particularly.

Things would be much easier if they could cooperate.

She wondered if she could find a moment to speak with Sam alone tomorrow, away from Moira’s attentive ears.

When they pulled up in front of the house, Bella was relieved and then anxious to see Charlie’s car there.

Edward could tell why. “He suspects, Bella. I don’t think this will be a surprise.”

“No,” she said, “he knows how I feel. He just doesn’t . . . approve.”

“I can’t blame him,” Edward said.

“Nice vote of confidence,” Bella said, wanting to laugh but feeling uneasy.

“You have my every confidence,” he said very seriously. “And I have a lot of respect for Charlie, which is why I don’t fault him for his opinions.” Then he added, “But I still think you’ve made the right choice because I love you.”

Bella felt more uncomfortable squirming in her innards. She sighed loudly. “Right. I’m going to go get ready.”

“Are you going to tell him?” Edward asked.

“Nope,” she said. “But I’m telling him we’re going to dinner.”

Edward smiled. “All right.” He would wait on her pace.

When Bella told Charlie who she was going out to dinner with, her father was reaching for the newspaper on the coffee table. He stopped abruptly, pulling his hand back and then looked at Bella. She held his gaze levelly.

He reminded himself that she and Jake had been about to move in together, that she was a grown woman, that she was a mother. And that he really didn’t want to mess up his relationship with her. "Okay,” he finally said, obviously trying to think of something nice to add to it. “Glad you’re getting out to do something . . . fun.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she said, leaning in for a hug.

She’d run upstairs to use the breast pump and then change.

Charlie stopped her on the way out. “Here,” he said, holding out her purse. Smiling, he said, “I added a can of bear spray.”

Bella rolled her eyes. “Thanks?” she said, taking it.

“Beats breaking your other hand,” he said, cocking an eyebrow, and making his point.

“I suppose so,” she said with a small smile. “Don’t wait up.”

“Oh, I will,” he said, waving from the door as she got back in the car with Edward.

It had been a joy and an indulgence to peruse the shelves of the bookstore with no press of responsibility weighing on her. It had been months since she’d been to one, and so many titles seduced her with their sultry letters that she had a full basket at her feet before long. She was so absorbed in skimming through new choices that she didn’t notice Edward had replaced the full basket with an empty one. It was only when she went to pick it up with her good hand that the absence of weight jarred her. 

“What?” she said, almost to herself, then looked at Edward, standing nonchalantly holding a bag of books.

“Sorry,” he said, “did you want those? I thought they looked good, so I bought them. You can have the first crack at reading them, though, if you want.”

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, grinning and chuckling. “Thank you,” she said with more grace than she ever had in their time together before.

Her reaction both pleased and surprised him. She’d grown and changed in so many marvelous ways, but her willingness to accept such a small gift with graciousness filled his mind with many pleasurable possibilities.

It was cold, but not so much that it prevented the joy of a slow walk towards the area of town that featured a few restaurants.

She was still holding her injured arm against her midsection, protecting it against accidental bumps.

“Still sore?” he asked, as they sat down in a quiet table overlooking the strait.

“Mm-hmm,” she said, eyeing the menu.

He fished a small vial of pills out of his pocket and set it on the table in front of her. Scanning it quickly, she caught her name. It was the pain medication Carlisle had prescribed—and that she’d refused.

She eyed the bottle and him darkly.

“Before you rightly call me interfering or pushy . . . or any other colourful word of choice, hear me out, okay?” 

She said nothing but listened, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Do you still need that pain?”

“What?”

“Do you still need the pain in your arm, to deal with . . . other, difficult things?”

She frowned and looked down. “Does it matter if I do?” she finally asked him.

“It’s hard to watch you hurt,” he said, trying not to grimace.

She felt a twist in her stomach.

“I was wondering today if I could—or someone else could—help you not need that pain.”

The thought of letting go of any of these small, manageable hurts was terrifying. She felt like a child on their first day at school, clinging to a security blanket. Except, she reminded herself, what hid under her blanket was much more frightening than what most children faced.

He was still watching, waiting, fingering the bottle. “They’re safe for nursing,” he said, “if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

She considered the rattle of them, still in his hands.

“I’m surprised Charlie hasn’t said anything,” he said softly. “I can’t imagine you letting Sarah hurt like this.”

“Of course not,” she said, full of reproach.

“Because, she’ll take her cues from you.”

After a moment, Bella picked up the bottle, opening it deftly and taking a pill.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly, watching her put the remaining pills in her purse.

She wasn’t so sure he would thank her later. She wasn’t sure what later would bring, but she was terrified it would be much uglier than the ache in her hand.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	32. Poetic assaults

“Back before ten,” Bella said a little sardonically. “You do remember I am not in high school anymore, right?” The expression on her face made it clear she was being playful.

“I do.” Edward grinned back. It was like having a piece of that Bella back. She’d been so much more relaxed, partly, he knew, because she wasn’t dealing with acute pain, but mostly, he hoped because they were together. And now, he was standing, facing her on her front porch, the sound and light from the living room telling him that they were being unobtrusively observed by Charlie. A nice, feigned privacy.

A small breeze was coaxing her hair into her face, and he stole an opportunity to touch her, brushing it away. He wanted very badly to do more but waited on her invitation.

“Thank you,” she said. “I really enjoyed tonight, and thank you especially for the books.”

“You’re welcome,” he said softly. “Any time.”

He watched her blush and look down at the floor. 

As Edward debated asking if he could kiss her goodnight, he was surprised to feel her lips on his cheek. She moved away quickly, as if she was frightened by what she’d done. He smiled, his “Thank you,” quiet and reverent.

Her smile was shy. “Night,” she said, reaching for the doorhandle.

“Wait,” he said. “Here,” and handed her the keys. When their fingers touched, he dared to whisper, “I’ll be close, if you want to talk, later.” He fingered the top of her cast at her wrist, feeling her flesh shiver.

Inside, Bella closed the door and her eyes, giving herself a moment to recover.

“Hey,” Charlie called from the couch, standing and greeting her with a hug. 

“Hey, yourself,” she said. “Did you find something to eat?”

“I did,” he said. “You?”

“Yes,” she said, putting down the large bag of books and undoing the laces of her shoes, “and a small supply of books.”

“I can see,” he said, clearing his throat. “So, Edward’s been . . . around a lot.”

By the look on his face, Bella knew that any pretense she’d kept up was done. “He has,” she acknowledged, not quite sure what else to tell him.

“You look happier,” Charlie said softly.

Was she? Her eyebrows pulled together, considering it. “Yeah.”

Charlie’s sat at the table, elbows rested on his knees, mouth pressed to his hands, which were tightly gripped together. “It’s okay to go slow,” he said carefully. “You’ve been through a lot the last couple of months.” 

She nodded, “I know,” she said. “We are. I don’t think I could do it any other way.”

“Good,” he said, and then said it again more quietly, “good,” like he was trying to convince himself of this. “So, Moira called. She’s got some fresh cases that have come up, so your visits tomorrow will only be an hour, but you’ll have three of them.”

Bella’s stomach clenched, and she made herself take a deep, and careful breath. "Okay.”

“I know,” he said, hand squeezing her knee, “but you get Sarah back Tuesday morning, right?”

“So everyone keeps telling me,” Bella said.

“You will,” Charlie said. “And as soon as she is back, we file a complaint. Okay?”

On this, Bella was more resolved. She nodded, trying to envision Sarah in her arms, and then taking some sort of bureaucratic revenge on the clearly inept social worker, Ashleigh. The first image made her entire body relax, and the second did nothing. But the thought of another mother having her child taken from her without cause made Bella’s hands clench. No, they’d file a complaint without delay.

They said their respective good nights, and Bella fished through her clothes, looking for something warm to wear to bed. She hadn’t had time to really do any laundry, and resigned herself to the ridiculous pajamas her mother had bought her. The set was warm and relatively simple but it featured a far more adventurous neckline than Bella normally wore.

Renée had given them to her in the summer, saying, “Trust me. Comfortable, stretchy pajamas are your friend after having a baby. And, they’re kinda sexy too.”

Jacob had bent over in laughter, hearing her recount this conversation. He’d approved of the neckline though.

At least she had new books, she told herself, and picked one up from the top of the bag. It wasn’t one of her own choosing. When she opened it, a note fluttered out.  _ Thought you might enjoy a poet from my own time _ . - Edward

She smiled at this thoughtfulness and began reading, turning the pages in varied chunks, letting her eyes skim over the sparse verses. It was a small poem that caught her eye before she could think better of it.

I know what my heart is like

Since your love died:

. . . a hollow ledge

Holding a little pool

Left there by the tide,

A little tepid pool,

Drying inward from the edge.

She choked in the sob that threatened, a hand at her mouth, closing her eyes against any more poetic assaults.

A soft voice said, “That was not the effect I had in mind,” and she felt a cool hand gently pull the book away.

Bella shook her head, but the tears had been freed, and now they trailed down her cheeks in waves.

“It’s okay to cry,” he said. “You’ve had more than enough cause.”

She half laughed at this, wanting to dismiss this truth, but she couldn’t. The tears continued.

She realized that her mind was reaching for the ache in her arm. But it wasn’t there. Neither were the other heartaches, who were normally so well-silenced by pain or anger or Sarah’s needs. Now these were loudly crying for her attention. She pushed herself out of the bed, walking, trying to get enough air into the the suddenly tight stricture in her chest.

She leant in front of the partially open window, battling for enough air to fend it all off, when she felt Edward’s hand again, slowly rubbing circles on her back.

She was terrified that he was seeing her this way—that he would see what she’d meant. That he would leave.

“I told you,” she gasped out. “Not normal.”

“Of course you’re not,” he said. “You’re remarkable.” 

He said it with incredulity, surprised that she would doubt it. Her breathing alarmed him though, and he gently pulled her to face him. “Try and breathe with me, okay?” 

She watched him and tried, her lungs revolting against the coaxing of her body. It took several minutes before she felt the air easing into her without strident labour.

He’d gotten her to sit down on the bed and was trying to convince her to put her feet up. She’d acquiesced to leaning back against the headboard, but didn’t want to lie all the way down.

“I’m fine,” she said.

He didn’t agree at all. “Has that happened before?”

She shook her head, still worried the sensation would return. She felt vaguely nauseated.

“It looked like a panic attack,” he said gently. “It’s totally normal. Bella. I’m surprised you haven’t had one before, all things considered.”

She looked down at her hands, frowning in concentration, still working to discipline her breathing.

Edward had stood and turned, as if to walk away.

Watching this, it was like her heart had thrown itself into her mouth, “No, don’t!” she said, before she could stop herself, alarmed at the timbre of her own voice.

He turned back immediately, putting his hand in hers, “I’m just getting something,” he said. He hooked his foot into the diaper bag across the room, pulling it back. He fished out one of the granola bars he knew she kept there. “Here,” he said, “sugar can help.”

She took it, not questioning him or fussing about being fussed over. She didn’t want to feel this way now or ever again.

A sudden wave of exhaustion was pulling at her, and she fought it awkwardly, trying to hold onto him with one hand, eating with her other.

“I won’t leave unless you ask me to,” he said. He was hoping she wouldn’t. He’d had his own moment of panic, hearing the sudden shift in her rhythms from outside. He’d wondered, in his own fear, if something had slipped by him, if she was being attacked. The change had been that quick.

She answered by scooting over, making room for him on the bed, hoping she could walk this tightrope she found herself on. Close, but not too close.

_ Just Edward in my bed.  _ Before she could stop herself, she remembered what had happened the last time she shared this bed with a man.

Edward moved himself so his back was to the headboard, and very tentatively, slipped his arm behind her, pulling her to him.

She gave up on eating and set the food down on the nightside table, resting her head on his shoulder.

“Thank you for coming,” she said softly. The exhaustion was winning, gravity pulling at her body.

“I love you,” he whispered back, and kissed her forehead. He could hear the steal of sleep over her body and felt his own relax, knowing she was safe here.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	33. Giant beds & expectations

Edward discreetly disappeared in the morning, giving Bella time with Charlie.

From outside, he could hear the rattle of the bottle of pills, but he didn’t know if she’d taken one or simply set it aside. He kept his observations in the car as unobtrusive as possible. She was quiet. Absorbed, he supposed, in her thoughts of seeing Sarah.

Sam was another thing entirely. His thoughts, normally bitter in Edward’s presence, were alarming, the images that flittered through his recent memory both startling and alarming. In contrast, his face was neutral. He didn’t ask Bella if she wanted to drive, simply taking the wheel, giving Edward a wary eye as he did so.

“I’ll see you later,” Edward said, waiting until Bella was far away before letting his face wear the many strong emotions he felt. 

They would need to act, and soon. He just didn’t know how.

Bella welcomed Sam’s silence today. She had put the pills on her shelf without taking one. It was easier to be silent and explore the familiar ache in her arm.

Billy frowned, seeing her face. “You should be getting more sleep than that. You look like you’ve been up most of the night.”

Her lips curled part way up and then fell back, taking Sarah. She was relieved to hold her, but she didn’t need Billy prying. “Getting up to pump is a bit of a production,” she mumbled as an excuse.

“Hmm,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he believed her. 

Seth and Leah chatted casually in the corner, Moira sitting across from them. Bella wondered why both siblings were there, but didn’t ask.

The hour was up too quickly, and Bella pressed her face to Sarah’s, closing her eyes and breathing in her sweet scent. She didn’t realize it, but she was rocking, turning her body back and forth in an unconscious rhythm.

Moira cleared her throat.

Bella sighed and handed Sarah back to Billy.

“Back at noon, all right?” Moira said, glancing at her watch. She waited for Bella to leave, following her out.

“Come on,” Leah said, “You can hang out at our place.”

“Sure,” Bella said.

“God,” Leah said, getting in the car, making a face, “ugh.”

“You can walk, you know,” Bella said, thoroughly done with the dramatic reactions to all the supernatural smells.

Leah made a dismissive noise. “Actually, I can’t.”

Bella responded with her own derisive, “Tsk” but then looked at her. “Wait, why not?”

Leah clamped her mouth shut.

Oh, Bella realized. Leah really couldn’t walk, just as she couldn’t say anything either. “Never mind,” she mumbled, and they drove on to Sue’s, a few minutes down the road.

“You look terrible,” Leah said to her. “Take a nap or something.”

“Thanks, Leah,” Bella said. “I’ll just roll around in your compliments for a bit for a while.”

“Just sayin’.” Leah shrugged. “But seriously, get some sleep.”

Irked by her friend’s bossiness, and not sure that she could get back to sleep, Bella pulled out one of the books Edward had bought her instead. Part of her wasn’t surprised when Leah shook her shoulder, waking her up an uncertain amount of time later. “Come on. Time to go.”

They repeated their round trip once more that day, but when they arrived for the last visit, Moira was standing at the door beaming. “Good news!” she announced. “I was able to push through my report with the area supervisor. You get to take Sarah home today!”

Bella’s sob of surprised joy was synchronized with a quiet “Thank God,” from Billy. 

“Really?” Bella asked, needing to be sure it was true.

“Yes,” Moira said, handing her a clipboard and form to sign. “Now,” she added, “I can’t tell you to file a complaint, but well—she looked at Sarah and then Bella “you’re clearly a wonderful mother, and I’ve found nothing to support a report of abuse of any kind.” She raised her eyebrows at Bella meaningfully. “And, if you do want to file a complaint, the information is right on the back. Yep, right there,” she said, pointing at the faint print.

“Thank you,” Bella said. She was less concerned with the complaint than she was with being able to take Sarah home. She nursed her baby quickly, and after giving a big hug to Billy, called Edward and then Charlie with the good news.

It was Seth this time who went with her to the boundary line. He looked like he wanted to say something. He kept opening his mouth and then closing it again. When he saw Edward, though, he looked at him with furtive concentration.

Edward only nodded, saving his animated smiles for Bella. After Seth disappeared, he pulled her into a hug. “How’re you doing?” he asked, stepping back to see her face.

“I’m just so happy to have her back,” she said, looking at Sarah through the car window.

“Me too,” he said. “Perhaps we can see my family and share the good news? I know Alice and Esme would love to see you both.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Bella said. 

He waited until they were on their way, testing the waters of their conversation. She seemed steady and relieved. There would be no better time to tell her, as much as he didn’t want to share the news.

“I need to tell you something,” Edward said quietly.

Bella’s posture became rigid.

“Everything’s okay,” he said softly, touching her arm, taking her hand, “but Sam called Carlisle this morning to give him some news.”

Bella swallowed, nodding.

“They chased off four vampires last night from Sue’s and Billy’s.”

Bella was still stiff but breathing carefully. She nodded for him to go on, pulling her hand away, reaching back to touch Sarah. Four vampires. Near Sarah. Near Billy. She blocked out all the what if’s. She set her attention onto her broken hand, feeling the softness of Sarah’s downy hair with the other, an uncertain balance.

“He didn’t want to tell you, and he didn’t want us to tell you.”

“I’m not surprised.” Bella huffed angrily. “He . . . doesn’t like anyone who he thinks doesn’t need to know things, knowing things. ” She bit back her bitter memories about how he’d made Jacob keep things from her too.

“I can’t say I don’t empathize with him, Bella,” he said, seeing the dark look she gave him, “but I underestimated you before, and I won’t make that mistake again.” He blew out a breath, “If you don’t want to know, I’d be happy to keep it from you.”

“No,” she said, “I had enough of that with Jacob. I need to know.”

"Okay.” He sighed. “When we get to the house, we should meet with the others to discuss what’s been going on. But you don’t have to,” he said, seeing her eyes widen.

“No, I want to,” she said. Edward had protected her so much before, it was surprising to see him so open with this information.

The greetings at the house were many and kind but tempered by a quiet urgency. They all needed to talk. When they gathered at the table, Edward pulled a chair out for Bella, who was still not relinquishing Sarah.

“I thought it would be good to discuss what we know and what our possible courses of action could be,” Carlisle said from the head of the table.

Jasper nodded and started. “The wolves have given us permission to cross the boundary if they summon us, but only then.”

Everyone around the table nodded.

“How?” Bella asked. Wolves didn’t exactly carry phones.

Jasper grinned. “Three consecutive howls.”

Rose snorted derisively. “What, no bat lamp?”

Emmett chuckled.

Bella felt her heart rate quicken. So much could go wrong with this, and they were making jokes. They were protecting her if anything happened.

“Everything will be fine,” Edward whispered, leaning down. “We’ll be careful.”

She nodded, still uncertain, still not reassured. There were other details that flew above her, so preoccupied with the possibilities of too-close contact. What if Seth or Leah or Sam or—

“Bella?” Edward said softly, bringing her back to the present.

“You haven’t said much,” Carlisle said softly.

“No,” she said, “I’m just worried about all of you . . . and the pack. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“Please.” Emmett snorted.

They seemed so outwardly nonchalant about it all that Bella wondered where the worry or caution had room to lurk and what mistakes had opportunity to sprout between it all.

“Esme and I will have a look around in Seattle this week and see if we can talk sense in to whoever is there,” Carlisle said quietly.

“I’ll go with you,” Jasper said.

The others nodded, but Edward caught Bella’s querying look. “There have been some suspicious deaths. We think there might be some of our kind who haven’t been . . . well-trained.”

“Why?” Bella asked.

It was Carlisle who answered. “The Volturi may investigate if the pattern grows. It would be best to avoid their involvement.”

She’d heard enough about them to want to avoid their proximity at most costs. Not all, she thought, bringing Sarah closer to her. 

With the business finished, the rest of the Cullens returned to their various activities, giving Edward and Bella space. Edward had flicked Carlisle away with his eyes, seeing his father’s evaluative glance at Bella’s tense muscles. He’d seen it too. “Not now,” he mouthed at him, and Carlisle nodded, turning away.

She had a few hours yet before Charlie would be home, but Edward could see that the news had strained her. He worried, after the night before, about what might come of it.

“Do you want to go lie down for a bit and just be with Sarah?”

She nodded, exhaling, and started to walk in the direction of the guest room. Edward stopped her with a hand to her elbow, pointing upstairs.

“This way,” he said. “We’ve rearranged things a bit.”

When they arrived at what she realised was Edward’s room, she stopped, momentarily confused. Dominating the space was a giant four poster bed. Larger than the one she’d used downstairs, its gold cover made it look like an outgrowth of the carpet. It overwhelmed both the space and her.

_ Vampires _ , her brain reminded her,  _ don’t need beds _ .

Not to sleep, anyway.

Bella hadn’t missed the fact that all the other couples had beds in their rooms.

And they were not for sleeping.

_ Did he think—had he changed his mind? _

The memory of last Saturday washed over her, resulting in a florid blush.

_ Did he expect—? _

She swallowed, looking at the bed.

Edward was watching her, trying to gauge and understand her reaction. “Esme was missing her study, and you’d mentioned wanting to sleep with Sarah. I thought you might appreciate having more space for that.”

_ Was that  _ all _ the space was for?  _ The bassinet stood by the bed, too.

She wasn’t sure how to broach this with him, so she set Sarah down safely in the moses basket, and planted herself on the edge of the mattress. She tried not to tense when Edward did the same.

“This is one of those times when I really wish I could tell what you’re thinking,” he said, brushing his fingers over hers.

She cleared her throat, still feeling the colour in her cheeks. She forced herself to speak, her voice rough with nerves. “I was just wondering if there was more to this bed than just a place to sleep.” The warmth in her cheeks spread.

“No,” he said, smiling, shaking his head.

She nodded, and he could see her shoulders drop a tiny bit.

She was relieved, he realized. She’d been worried there was an expectation. “Bella,” he said softly, “I don’t know whether you realize how happy I am just to be able to be in your life, to hold your hand,” and he squeezed her fingers, “to see you with Sarah. Everything else . . . is immaterial.”

“You don’t expect . . . more?” She looked at the bed and then him, still blushing.

The knife of guilt twisted into his own gut again. He hadn’t forgiven himself for what he’d done a few days earlier, but he was beginning to wonder if something had happened while he was gone that she hadn’t told him about. She’d been so . . . unrestrained before, and now . . . just hugging her felt like a risk sometimes.

“Can I ask,” he began gently, “why this is so difficult to talk about? It wasn’t . . . before.” He had half turned to her, holding her hand in one of his, tracing her skin with his other fingers, enjoying the gentle and soft warmth there.

“I think I covered the gist of it on Saturday.”

“Yes, but is that the only reason why?”

Her heart rate fluttered higher.

No, it wasn’t, then.

She closed her eyes and told herself that it was better to put the ugly things in front of him now. If he was going to run away again, it would be easier if he did so sooner rather than later. “I told you about Jacob and me,” she began, the flush in her cheeks freshening itself.

“Yes,” he said.

“It was a bit of a sore point for him.”

Edward made himself loosen his hands. He didn’t trust them with the feeling building inside.

She took a deep breath in and then a shaky one out. “The last night I saw him, he . . . misinterpreted things.” She shook her head. “He didn’t realise right away that I didn’t want to. It was a shock.” The words started tumbling out faster. “I mean, he stopped when I told him to, but he was really angry . . . .I’d never seen him that angry—”

“I understand,” Edward said, watching her. If he could be any whiter than his natural pallor, he would be. He’d—he couldn’t put words what Jacob had done, but he softened his face for Bella’s sake. “You’re not just afraid of being . . . ’broken’ with me, you’re afraid I’ll. . . .” and he stopped himself using the word ‘force,’ and said, “push you into something you don’t want.”

She nodded.

“No, never,” he said, thinking about what he wanted to do to Jacob, dead or not.

She gave him a wan smile. “I never thought Jacob would either.”

The man’s betrayal had been complete, as had his own, Edward realized. He’d left. Edward wanted to take away all the hurt she was holding, and he had no idea how. “I don’t expect anything, Bella.”

“It didn’t seem that way on Saturday,” she said, looking down.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have done that, but let me clear. What I want and what I expect are two very different things.”

“That’s what Jacob said.” She grimaced.

“I,” he said, in a low growl, “am not Jacob Black.”

“No,” she said, abruptly wiping away the tears at her eyes, “you’re the man who left me when I begged you not to.”

She stood up, pulling her hand away and walking to the window, breathing heavily.

He didn’t follow, not right away, giving her a moment. When he did, he kept his hands to himself. “I’m sorry, Bella, for hurting you, for giving you so much cause to distrust me.”

“You’ve done lots of things right,” she said huskily, “everything I’ve asked since you’ve returned. I’m sorry I can’t be . . . what I was. I wish I could.”

He shook his head, almost laughing, “You, apologizing to me for how you are because I hurt you,” and here his voice grew dark, “because of how Jacob hurt you.”

“You make him sound terrible. He wasn’t.”

Edward did not press his point.

“I love you,” he said, reaching for her hand.

She took his hand, letting him pull them closer.

“I love you too,” she managed.

His heart felt like it had swollen beyond itself.

“But I feel like I’m walking around with my heart in my throat, half waiting for you to be gone one minute or for you to realize that being with me is a mistake.” She was looking up, trying to stop more tears. “I know you tell me you won’t leave. It’s just hard to believe.” She shrugged.

Very slowly, so she had time to pull away if she wanted to, Edward brought his arms around her back. “No,” he said, “I’m not leaving, and I’ll be here, and I’ll keep saying it until it’s real.” He tightened his arms, closing the gap, feeling the shake of her distress against him.

“I don’t think you realize how amazing you are, Bella. Your strength—your resilience, they’re incredible. And your heart, your bravery, they awe me every day.”

Bella was breathing in his scent, remembering the first time he’d held her this way. The feelings now were much the same. Dangerous things—stirring. Had it always been this way? She’d caged herself up for so long, it was hard to tell. What she was more certain of was his bodily reaction. That was new . . . and new enough to be unnerving.

She pulled away, frowning in concentration but blushing too.

Edward blew out a breath, realizing what had broken the embrace.

“What changed?” she asked, still looking down.

He didn’t have to ask what she meant.

“I thought you were dead, Bella.” He let that hang there for a moment, willing her to understand the implications for him. “And when I found out you weren’t, it changed me.” He blew out another breath. “It changed me in a way I’d never anticipated.” He reached out a hand to her cheek. He was relieved when she didn’t pull away. “I used to be afraid that I would hurt you by accident, physically, that I would lose control or focus and harm you. I’m not now. My body won’t allow it.”

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion.”

“The thought of you gone or hurt, it physically pains me,” he said softly.

She pulled away.

“So,” she said, and looked at the bed. “That is on the table, then.”

“No,” he said firmly, “not unless you want it to be.”

She breathed out something that might be a laugh. “How ironic,” she said.

“We’ve both changed,” Edward said, his hand out, reaching for hers. She placed it there, and he led her back towards Sarah. They stood together, watching her.

“Would you like to go home?” he asked after a few minutes, “where there are fewer vampires and none with giant beds and potential expectations?” He said it lightly with a grin and was rewarded with one in return from Bella.

“Please,” she said.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	34. Mysteries & Miracles

“Bella,” Jasper said, seeing her come down the stairs. He’d stood up from the table, walking at a purposefully human pace. She’d been agitated since she arrived, and the turmoil of feeling hadn’t quite abated yet. He hadn’t tried to use his influence, but he wanted to make her feel at ease. Behaving as humanly as possible seemed a logical place to start.

“I was just going to take her home,” Edward said. His voice held a note of warning. His mood was more articulate in this respect.

“What is it?” Bella asked, still a little uneasy around Jasper. It didn’t feel so long ago that he’d been snarling at her with blood-thirsty intent.

Edward huffed a breath out. It didn’t take Jasper’s gifts to sense his impatience.

“Two things,” Jasper said, gesturing towards the chairs nearby.

Bella sat, Edward standing behind her, a tight hand on the back of the chair.

Jasper sat across from her. “First, I’ve been in touch with our lawyer on your behalf.”

“Okay,” she said, “why, exactly?”

“To expunge your records.”

“Which means?”

“The investigation into you is now a matter of public record,” Edward said, “meaning it’s there until it’s expunged, but that takes some legal work.”

“Why does it need to be expunged?” Bella asked, looking back at Edward.

“It doesn’t,” Jasper said, “but it would be better if it was. Just in case, any ill-intentioned social workers get any ideas again.”

"Okay,” Bella said, letting out a breath. “Thank you, Jasper.”

“Happy to help,” he said. His own guilt eased a bit, hearing her thanks. It was a drop in payment to the many debts he owed her.

“And the second thing?” she asked.

Edward shot Jasper a warning look. Jasper threw it right back at him. “Keeping things from people didn’t work well last time, did it?” Jasper said.

Edward frowned but nodded begrudgingly. His hand slipped from the chair to Bella’s shoulder.

“When you broke your hand,” Jasper said, “did you feel what I was trying to do?”

“Yes,” Bella said, remembering her anger, followed by the cloying calm that had prickled over her.

“Do you remember what you did with that?”

“I don’t understand.” While her gaze at Jasper was direct, she leaned away from him slightly, the movement so subtle as to be instinctual. 

Jasper said nothing, leaning back as well. “What it felt like was you shoving my influence away.”

Edward’s face told Jasper that his patience was waning. His gaze to the door was clear, too. When Edward’s fingers twitched at Bella’s shoulder, Jasper made sense of the feelings rolling from his brother. Bella had been through enough, and she didn’t need more stress from Jasper.

“I have no idea, Jasper,” she said, shaking her head. “I was . . . very angry.” She shrugged.

“No!” Edward said, making Bella startle.

Jasper’s eyebrows brushed his hairline, and he eyed his brother. Bella turned back to look up at Edward. His face was rigid with anger.

“Don’t even  _ think _ about it.” Edward snarled at him.

Bella looked vaguely nauseated, and her emotional unease was commensurate with the expression on her face. She eyed Jasper and then Edward in turn, her own expression uneasy.

“I think I should go home,” she said softly, standing tentatively. Her arms curled protectively around Sarah.

“I’m sorry,” Jasper said, standing up. “Edward’s right.” With a curt nod, he excused himself from their company.

Bella was shaken by Edward’s outburst, so she didn’t ask him anything until they were in the car, and even then, only after they were many minutes into their drive.

“What was the yelling about?” she asked. 

Edward’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t answer right away.

“I need honesty, Edward,” she said.

He nodded but slowly. “Jasper thinks you’re gifted, and that if you were changed to be like us, your gift would manifest.”

Ah, yes. She could see why that would cause yelling. She glanced over at Edward. His jaw was tight.

“And what are your thoughts about that?”

He made a derisive noise in his throat. “That hasn’t changed.”

“Oh good.” she quipped. “Yay for continuity.”

He looked at her, surprised and alarmed. “Is that . . . do you still want that?”

“No,” she said with certainty, “and even if I did, I wouldn’t.” Her hand moved to rest on Sarah behind her in the car seat.

His shoulders relaxed. “I’ve never wanted that for you, Bella. Never.” He looked at her, “To see you change in your life, to have watched you grow, to see your child in this world. I don’t think I can convey the . . . wonder of it.”

They pulled into the driveway and he turned to fully face her. “It’s miraculous to me, to see that you’re different. That—”

“I’m older?” she said.

He grinned. “No,” he said, “I was going to say that your experiences have transformed you.” He reached out to touch her cheek, feeling the blood rush to join it there. “Even that is subtly different.”

Bella could feel just how similar and different it was, to have him touch her—even just his palm to her cheek and had to quickly cross her arms over her chest, stemming the flow of milk. The blush intensified.

“And that,” he smiled. “Amazing.”

Bella gave another half laugh. “Embarrassing is more like it.”

He smiled, and he watched a small smile blossom on her lips too.

So many miracles and so many gifts.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	35. Gifts

A/N for 2020-03-20: Many thanks to chaysara for beta-ing this story. Please know that I fiddled with her work after the fact, so all errors are my own. This should be a good, meaty chapter into which you can sink your readerly teeth.

~ Erin

* * *

The next few weeks passed peacefully. The vampires that had flitted in and out of Forks and the reservation did not make their presence felt again. Charlie accepted with awkward grace Edward's presence in Bella and Sarah's lives.

It was on a rare Wednesday afternoon off that he walked into the living room with the mail. "This looks promising," Charlie said, handing it to Bella. The return address was for the awards department at the local college. The envelope was thick.

"Oh my gosh," she said, reading it and smiling, "I've got a scholarship!"

"Of course you do," Edward said, coming up to peer over her shoulder, Sarah's little body turned into his own. "Courses and books covered and transferrable too. Congratulations!"

But a frown was pulling down the curve of her smile. She could take online courses, yes, but some would have to be in person, and she hadn't found work yet or childcare.

Charlie had offered his quiet congratulations, too, and then headed back outside to finish up with the Christmas lights.

"What's wrong?" Edward asked, seeing the change.

She sighed. "I don't have a job, and I'll need to find childcare."

"Childcare," Edward rolled his eyes, "please." He lifted his eyebrows and gestured with his one open hand. "Do you find me wanting in that department?" He knew, though, what she was worrying about: that he might leave again. That they all might leave.

"No," she said, covering up her frown with a fleeting grin.

"Even if your worst fears come true, Bella—and they're not going to," he said quickly, seeing her look, "and you wake up to find us all gone, do you really think Billy or Sue or any of your other friends or family wouldn't be there for you?"

"No." She sighed, following this line of logic.

"Good," Edward said, rubbing Sarah's back, "so you can stop worrying because it won't come to that and because I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me."

She looked back at the letter.

"What will you study?" he asked, trying to move to gentler topics, sitting down on the couch, laying Sarah down on the playmat.

She joined him, watching Sarah suck on her hands, batting at the toys suspended above her.

"World literature, for starters," she said, "then some less enthralling science courses."

"Still focused on engineering?" he asked. "It doesn't seem to be something you're terribly excited about."

"It isn't," she admitted, "but it has very good employment opportunities."

Employment. Childcare. Work. These were all things that Edward wanted her not to have to worry about. He wanted her to have them, if she wanted them, but not to worry about them. There was no need.

"So," he said, taking a different tack, "Alice and Esme are going Christmas shopping tomorrow. They wondered if you wanted to go with them."

"Yeah," Bella said, still looking at the letter, "that would be helpful."

Edward had tried to hand her his car keys when he'd brought her and Sarah back home weeks before, but she'd refused. "I don't want to inconvenience you," she'd said, to which Edward had laughed gently.

"Vampires don't exactly need cars," he'd reminded her.

"Sure," Bella said, "but don't you think Charlie would find it a bit odd that you're lending me your car when theoretically, you human Cullens might have need for it?"

She'd had a point there, but they could have easily figured something out, if she'd been willing. But she hadn't been.

"So," he said, "you still haven't told me what you'd like for Christmas," he said, slipping his arm around her, kissing the top of her head.

"No," she smiled, "because you're here. That's enough."

He groaned.

"That's what you tell me when I ask you," she said, poking him in the chest with a finger. "Turnabout is fair play."

"So," he said, "if I asked for something, you'd be okay asking for something?"

"Maybe," she said.

He arched an eyebrow at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, fine, yes . . . maybe."

"I'll think about that, then," he said, "but I warn you, it's open season on Sarah for presents. Alice has no concept of restraint."

Bella laughed. "I saw the writing on the wall for that a long time ago."

"Maybe Sarah would like a car," Edward murmured, pretending to talk to himself. He laughed when he caught Bella's look. "I wouldn't, even though I'd really like to." He leaned forward towards Sarah and said, "Vroom-vroom." She giggled.

Bella had leaned forward too, moving back in tandem as Edward did. Their faces were close, and the apprehension on Bella's face seemed to disappear as she smiled at his joke. Her smile revealed a softness he'd only glimpsed in the last weeks. He made himself remain still, not moving, even though he wanted to close the gap. He was rewarded when she brought her lips to his. He could feel the rush of her blood there, almost hot against the chill of his own flesh. Her hands found a home in his hair and the chaste span of his back. Edward didn't dare move his own hands. He didn't trust their resourcefulness.

The clunk of the ladder against the side of the house startled her away. She blushed floridly, watching Charlie's form move up the rungs directly outside the window behind them.

Her father paused, pointedly smiling and waving at them both.

Edward chuckled. "Bravo, Charlie. Well played."

Bella laughed too.

"I love you," Edward said.

"I love you too," Bella answered.

\- 0 -

When Bella told him about her shopping plans, Charlie had been pleased. "Good," he said, "you've been hanging around the house way too much."

She'd looked at him, feeling a little uncertain at this judgment. "Being a parent is not a prison sentence. Get out. Have fun. It'll be nice to have friends to help, too." Esme had skyrocketed in Charlie's esteem, coming around at well-placed intervals with the occasional meal or help or company. Bella wished Edward could rise similarly but accepted that he was tolerated. For now, it was enough.

"So," Alice asked, "what are the plans, ladies?"

They'd stopped for lunch, a few purchases behind them with a few more ahead. "I need to get Charlie something. A place with fishing gear would be good," Bella said.

"He is predictable that way," Alice mumbled.

Sarah began to wail, and Bella fumbled with her bra, trying to undo the snap. Poised close to her mother's breast, Sarah was turning her head back and forth frantically. A pair of women at the next table stared, disapproval written clearly over their faces. Bella caught the tail end of one of their whispered comments. "She's not going to do that here, is she?"

Bella blushed angrily, but made herself focus on Sarah, who latched with indignation, making Bella smart.

It made her miss Esme's dark look at the other women, who both paled at the aggressive curl of her lips.

Alice kicked Esme under the table, shaking her head imperceptibly.

"Some people are just intolerant," Alice muttered. Louder, she said, "Babies need to eat, too." This she addressed towards their table-neighbours, who were standing, moving towards the till.

"Any thoughts on what you're getting for Edward?" Esme asked, once again looking charming and suitably maternal to the world.

"No," Bella said, frowning. "He's trickier to buy for."

"Mmm," Esme agreed. "Speaking of gifts, I did want to bring up something we got you before," she said, watching Bella carefully. She didn't want to upset her, but it seemed like a good time to discuss this.

Bella looked up, a crease at her eyebrows.

"I don't think you used the plane tickets we bought you," Esme continued, pretending to take a sip of her drink.

"No," Bella said, chagrined. "Sorry, I didn't."

"Don't be sorry," Esme said. "But I thought you might want to visit your mother before classes get going in January."

"I'm pretty sure they've expired," Bella mumbled, embarrassed that she hadn't done anything with the vouchers. She should have given them to a friend. It had just been too painful to even look at them.

"I renewed them," Esme said softly, "if you'd like to."

Bella was even more embarrassed. "You didn't have—"

"No," Esme said, smiling gently, "I didn't. I wanted to. And I think Renée would like to see you and Sarah, and I suspect you'd like to see her."

Bella sighed, letting go of her discomfort. "I would. Thank you."

"The tickets," Esme said, pushing her food artfully around on her plate, "are good for two adults. Babies fly for free."

"Oh," Bella said, thinking of all the possibilities this unpacked.

"Or Sarah can have her own seat," Esme added casually, "whichever you'd prefer."

"No," Bella said with a shy grin, "I think I know who I'd like to go with me."

Esme did too. "Lovely," she said, catching the waiter's eye, signalling for the bill, watching Alice turn away to hide her own grin.

Christmas was not the awkward stalemate that Bella had anticipated. With Billy, Sue, Leah, Seth, Edward, and Charlie all under the same roof, it had more than enough potential to be.

Edward loved her gift and the scrawled inscription, too: "A poet from my time. I promise it won't make you cry. - Bella."

Leah and Seth were polite to Edward, more so than Sue, who watched him with guarded wariness, nearly twitching every time he picked up Sarah.

It was Seth who muttered, "Geez, Mom, relax," when Charlie noticed her behaviour.

"Don't worry, Sue. Edward will share," he said easily, taking Sarah from him, letting Sue hold her.

Sue smiled uneasily, but nodded at Charlie, obviously trying to appear more relaxed than she felt.

The stuffiness in the house was a bit much, and when Sue shooed them outside for a walk just before noon, Bella didn't object. It was a relief to be able to openly acknowledge what they all were.

"You are all ridiculous," she said, adjusting the handlebar on the stroller, watching Seth, Leah and Edward all squish up their noses at each other.

"Clearly you have no sense of smell," Leah said.

"My sense of smell works just fine, thank you very much."

Seth, Leah, and Edward all grunted, but they dropped the issue.

"You guys find anything?" Leah asked.

"No," Edward said.

Bella's shoulders tensed.

"It's okay," he said softly. "I wouldn't keep anything from you."

Bella nodded. She wanted to say she knew, but the trust, while it had grown, wasn't in full bloom. It pushed up and down, a tender crocus, uncertain of its season.

"I don't," Edward said in response to something Leah or Seth had thought. He looked at Bella, as did Seth and Leah.

"Mind if we disappear for a bit and run off some energy?" Leah asked Bella. "You know, work up an appetite before dinner?"

Bella looked at them incredulously. "You need to work up an appetite for dinner?"

Seth grinned. "It can't hurt."

"Sure," Bella said, "I'll just be ambling along all uncoordinated and human-shaped."

Edward smiled. "I'm not going anywhere." He slid a hand onto the stroller, his other around her waist. The cast had come off, but her hand tired easily. She shivered at his touch. "Cold?" he asked.

"No," she said, smiling softly. She didn't pull away.

They walked along, waving at the occasional other couple or family they met.

"So," he asked, "looking forward to next week?"

"Yes." Her smile widened. "Warmth and sunshine. And grandma!" she added, seeing Sarah reach for her. "And you. in said sunshine." She raised her eyebrows at him.

"It's looking to be pretty cloudy—and cool. Sorry," he added. "But, you'll have time to use my Christmas gift to you before we go."

"I'm still getting over my surprise on that front," she said, suppressing a giggle.

"I'm full of them," he grinned back.

"You were all . . . very restrained," she said. "Thank you." She'd actually worried that there would be an uncomfortable disparity Christmas morning and had been visibly relieved when everything had been small, tasteful, and thoughtful. Edward's gift had been the largest but most practical of them all. "Are you certain you're up for clothes shopping with me?" she asked.

"You said the magic words: with you. I'm pretty much up for anything with you." He turned the stroller to bring them around the curve that would take them back towards her house.

"Anything, huh?" she asked, looking at him.

It was his turn to raise his eyebrows. "Why? What did you have in mind?"

She blushed. "Nothing in particular. Just testing the waters there."

He didn't buy it for a minute, but he did wonder why she didn't want to tell him. The connection between being away together, though, and her blush, was sudden.

He still had his arm around her. "Does it have something to do with the conversation we had about beds?"he asked very softly, his way of telling her she could safely veer away from the topic without fear of pursuit.

Her cheeks were scarlet now and not from the cold.

She nodded.

"Ah," he said. "Can we stop a bit?" pointing to the park bench across the way.

They sat together, he keeping her close, the stroller parked in front of them.

"I think you're about to call me incredibly old-fashioned."

"Oh?" she asked, eyebrows up, watching him.

"What we talked about. That possibility . . . it isn't something that's entirely on the table for me. There's a prerequisite."

Her look turned quizzical. "Which is?"

"Marriage," he said softly, watching her face, which had fallen to a surprised blank.

"Marriage?"

"You look positively scandalized," he said, grinning.

"I . . . am," she managed.

"Why?" he asked, tucking her hair behind her ear. She caught his hand there, holding it to her face. He could hear her heart thudding louder and faster at his touch.

"Just think about my own parents, Edward."

"I am," he said. "You don't think they would want that for you?"

She looked at him, incredulous.

"Well, maybe not Charlie," he admitted.

"Yes, my parents," she said with emphasis, "who married young. Divorced almost immediately after having a child. You do know half of marriages end in divorce." She was still staring at him, trying to wrap reason around his idea.

He grinned, his lop-sided, beautiful smile, "I think you'll find the human-vampire divorce rate is considerably lower than that."

She snorted out a laugh, but then all the laughter drained out of her face, "Are you, are you—?"

"Am I down on one knee with a ring in hand? No, but, you asked about what was being offered, and I wanted to be clear." He paused, pulling his hand away to take her hands in his. "I would marry you in a heartbeat, Bella Swan. But it won't be a surprise when I propose."

She breathed out a sigh of relief. "Please don't take my reaction the wrong way. I love you, I just . . . " she wasn't sure how to finish that sentence.

"It would be the antithesis of slow?" Edward supplied, still grinning widely.

"Yes," she said, but smiled, turning her face up to his.

He took the risk. It was more than worth it, his arms sure at her back, the silence of the park an invitation to linger, their lips together, her own hands more adventurous than they had been before. She reacquainted her touch with the feel of his torso.

He pulled away first, not wanting to push her past her limits, but she followed his movement, her own wants not satisfied.

When their kiss ended, he said, lightly, "Remind me not to propose marriage more often."

She laughed and smiled, and he took her hand, kissing it. She felt safer, more at ease, knowing exactly where his thoughts lay.

Edward excused himself to join his own family for dinner, leaving Bella with a whispered promise of returning later when Charlie was asleep.

After the rest of the guests had disappeared, and she and Charlie had cleaned up the last of the dishes, they sat down on the couch with large sighs.

"That was good," Charlie said, "but I'm really glad they've all left."

"Not used to the noise, huh?"

"No," he said, shaking his head and smiling.

"You'd better get used to it, Dad, if you and Sue are getting married." Bella smiled. Sarah was on the couch beside her, arms extended above her head, fully asleep.

"'Spose so," he said. They both rested their eyes on Sarah. Bella could feel herself relax, just watching her steady, sweet breaths.

"It's gonna be quiet with you two gone next week," he said, frowning a little.

Bella could tell he was working up to something. He was rubbing his fingers together in a rhythmic pattern, his nervous energy apparent. She waited. He would get to it when he was ready.

"Do you have everything you need for the trip?" he asked.

"Not quite," she said, "but Edward and I'll head to Port Angeles in a few days and get a few things."

"Mmm," Charlie said. He was looking worriedly at Sarah.

"Dad, what is it?" Bella finally said, suddenly worried there was bad news.

He looked down at the floor and then back up at her, his eyebrows furrowed. "I don't want this to come out sounding the wrong way," he began. "I love Sarah. I'm so glad you have her, to be her grandfather. I just . . . I don't think I'm ready to do that again yet."

They were both complementary shades of scarlet now.

"It's not something you have to worry about, Dad," Bella mumbled, the words stumbling out of her, half formed.

"Yeah," Charlie said, "I think that's what you told me when you were seeing Jacob."

Bella's face felt uncomfortably hot. She'd explained that she'd been on the pill. Charlie had just assumed she hadn't been careful enough about when she took it. Bella hadn't corrected his assumptions.

"I think I'm just going to wrap up this conversation by saying that there's no way that could happen. Please put two and two together, and don't make me spell it out."

"Bella—"

"Just think about it, Dad. Please." Her teeth were clenched together, eyes trying to plant themselves in the carpet.

"Birth control—"

"Not using any," Bella said, a bit louder than she needed to.

"WHAT?" Charlie half-yelled.

"Two. And. Two, Dad." Her teeth were aching.

Charlie paused for a moment. "Oh," he said. "You and Edward aren't—"

"No," she said, louder than before.

"Okay," he said, after a moment. Then he stood. "All right. I'm just gonna . . . " He didn't finish the sentence but fled from the living room, heading upstairs.

Bella followed the same path shortly, putting Sarah to bed.

"Edward?" she whispered, sotto voce.

He appeared, his hand on hers at the bassinet. She put her head to his chest. "Please help me forget that conversation ever happened."

Edward grinned and then chuckled. "I know of one guaranteed way to distract you, but I'm not sure that's what you were hoping for." He slid his arm around her back.

She blushed but then grinned too, pulling away. "No, not really."

"You didn't tell Charlie about what happened?" he asked, nodding towards Sarah.

She lifted her eyebrows incredulously. "After hearing that, you have to ask? Of course not."

He thought for a moment. "You were on the pill . . . and only once. Those are some pretty astronomical odds."

Bell made a derisive sound in her throat. "Did you ever wonder why I had a midwife?"

"I did, but I'm not sure how those are connected."

Her face continued its shifting colour show. "She believed me when I told her. No one else did. You would not believe how many high-handed lectures I got on how I must have messed up the birth control." She paused for a bit, her voice quieter when she spoke again. "Even Jacob questioned it until his dad set him straight." She shrugged.

Edward's eyebrows were high. "Jacob did?" He took a moment to marvel at the stupidity of youth.

Bella's flush was an angry shade of purple. "Yeah," she said, looking down, scuffing her foot on the carpet.

Edward realized suddenly just how deep that doubt must have run, and he felt the familiar, internal twist of his own gut. What she had gone through when he was gone, because he had left.

"I'm sorry," he said, "that you had to go through that."

"Thank you," she said, trying to shrug it off. "It's in the past. There's no question, just looking at her, whose she is."

"No," he said in agreement. .

They slipped into lighter topics until the night pulled Bella into sleep and the safe comfort of Edward's arms.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	36. Warmth

A/N for 2020-03-24: Many thanks to chaysara for beta-ing this story. As usual, I fiddled with her work after the fact, so all errors are my own.

* * *

"Why don't I head downstairs," Edward said again, but Bella shook her head.

"My mother will think what she thinks, no matter what I tell her."

"Yes, I can see that. Still, she's going to think—"

"Yes," Bella said, with an exasperated sigh, "she will. Does it really matter?"

She'd been putting clothes in the dresser, and he pulled her towards him, circling his arms around her back. "Do you want her to think that?" he asked softly.

"No," she breathed out, "I don't, but where you 'sleep,'" she said, curling her fingers around the word, "isn't going to change that."

"Are you okay with me being here?" He nodded towards the general direction of the bed.

"Of course I am," she said, "and I'm glad of the help." She raised her eyebrows, remembering the flight. "Thank you again for taking on so much on the airplane."

They both turned, blowing out large breaths, looking at Sarah, now peacefully asleep. Her current and quiet state belied her performance in the air. Edward had walked her up and down the aisle as much as he could, trying to soothe her when Bella hadn't been able to nurse her any more. Even if he wasn't able to read minds, it would have been apparent how happy everyone on the flight was when the plane landed.

Edward smiled. "It'll get easier," he said, seeing Bella's look.

"If you say so," she said, but she didn't sound convinced.

"Are you going to talk to your mom?" he asked, returning to the topic at hand.

"Yes," Bella said, still in his arms, tracing her finger around the buttons on his shirt, "if the opportunity arises."

"Mmm," Edward said, suspecting her non-committal tone. It was up to her, after all, he told himself. "Ready to sleep?"

"Yes," she said, "I'm looking forward to actually having room for you beside me." She smiled.

"Oh," he said, eyebrows arched, "but my bed at home is too large. Hypocrite."

She giggled. "Okay, your bed is fine."

"You still haven't slept in it," he reminded her.

"Mmm," she said sleepily. "Maybe when we get back."

"I'm holding you to that." He grinned and picked her up, carrying her to the bed.

She tensed when he kissed her, setting her down.

"Shall I lay a sword between us to guarantee your virtue?" he murmured in her ear, kissing her there.

He could feel the laugh bubbling in her chest.

"Or," he said, running his lips down her neck, grinning, "to protect mine."

He didn't expect her to tense at this, but she did, sitting up, a small frown colouring her otherwise relaxed face.

She'd asked as they talked about his time away if there had been anyone. He'd been incredulous but hid it, simply saying "No." He didn't want her to feel badly that she had. He'd been so relieved when she had. But that she could think that he . . . no. Never.

"I've never asked," she said, the frown still there. "Does it bother you that I have, and you haven't?"

His eyebrows were mid-forehead. "No," he said, "not at all. You're here. We're together. That's all that matters."

She nodded, hearing him, but her eyebrows were still pulled together. "It's just . . . I know that it's not . . . " she wasn't sure how to put it.

"Some men are jealous?" he suggested, holding her hands, which she'd been fiddling with.

"No," she said, but then looked sharply at him. "Are you?" she asked.

"I was. Intensely," he admitted. "But that's in the past. And this," he said softly, kissing her hand, "is now."

"It's just," Bella said, "that you're . . . "

"Insanely old fashioned?"

"Sure," she grinned a little, still blushing. "You're sure it doesn't bother you?"

Edward smiled, shaking his head. "Not in the least."

She seemed satisfied by his answer. It made the uneasiness of the last years melt by large swaths, having this piece of her trust. He dared to brush the hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, kissing her forehead. "Sleep?" he asked again.

She was trying to stifle a yawn and nodded, lying down, curling into his arms, her back against his chest.

When Sarah woke hours later, he got to her just before she began to cry, picking her up, and slipping out of the room, walking her quietly up and down the hall.

Renée, up for an early morning bathroom break, was silently impressed, seeing them. Definitely a keeper, she thought.

Edward smiled to himself, hearing the bent of her thinking. If only she knew how he felt, holding Bella's child. He knew what parents thought, but their feelings were a mystery to him. He wondered if the magnitude of his own emotions approached their feelings, or their feelings, his.

Holding Sarah was like holding all of Bella's cares and concerns together in one small, fragile body, a small body that trusted him.

When Sarah could no longer be contented with movement, he changed her and brought her back to Bella, who nursed her in bed, body tucked against her own. Edward lay down behind them, hearing Bella slip back into sleep and then Sarah too. His arms wrapped around them both, and he wished his protection of their lives and their loves could be so easy, so simple.

Edward couldn't convince Bella to sleep as long as she clearly needed to. "I'm here to see my mom," she said, when he encouraged her to stay in bed. "I can nap later."

"All right," he said, taking Sarah so Bella could get ready, "let's go see Grandma."

He walked at a deliberately slow pace downstairs, joining Renée at the breakfast table. She cooed in delight when she saw Sarah, holding out her arms hopefully. But when Edward went to pass her to Renée, Sarah began to cry, and he put her back to his chest, murmuring softly to her. He could tell that she wasn't certain of this new person.

"She's a bit young to make strange," Renée said, cocking her head to the side.

"Here," Edward said, and turned Sarah to face Renée, his arms still around her.

Bella found them this way, both babbling happily to Sarah. She smiled, pausing at the bottom of the stairs, enjoying the scene.

"Oh," Renée said sadly, "you are not going to want Grandma if you see Mama."

"Thanks, Mom," Bella said, coming into the room. "Don't worry, she'll get used to you."

"I know. I'm just impatient."

The afternoon found them ensconced comfortably at the beach. Sarah had finally accepted Renée's arms, but Edward could tell where her preferences lay. He tried not to look smug when Sarah gargled happily at him.

"You look like you have capable hands, Edward," Renée said, watching Bella walk towards the water.

Renée's thoughts were fractured things. He could catch pieces of them flitting here and there, but her attention was scattered, childlike, almost. It was hard to get a read on what she was thinking at any given time.

"You could say that," he said, wondering what she was getting at.

She tilted her head to the side, squinting at Bella's back. "Her back is completely out of balance."

He flicked his eyes towards Renée. She was observant. None of Bella's other human friends or family had noticed it. Edward had. All of the Cullens had. He'd told them to leave it. She didn't need them horning in on every aspect of her life.

Excellent. "You think?" he asked, sounding skeptical, trying to sound human.

"Are you blind?" Renée said, frowning at him.

He pretended to squint. "I guess I can see it. I must just be used to it." He shrugged.

"I suppose," Renée said, a bit more gently. "It's not hard to correct. A bit of well placed massage can fix it." Then she turned her head fully to him, lifting her eyebrows meaningfully.

"Gotcha," he smiled, and mock saluted. Sarah gurgled her assent, and they both laughed.

That night, after Bella had put Sarah to bed, she sank gratefully into her own, glad of Edward's cool presence. It wasn't hot, but it was warmer than she'd expected for January.

"I thought," Bella said, later that night, sitting on the bed, "that vampires had perfect recall." She tapped the hardcover of the book he held. It was the one he'd given her before.

"We do," he said, "but experience changes the way you look at things."

She looked over his shoulder at what he was reading and away again quickly. She hadn't come back to the book since that first night. It was too painful. What she'd just seen didn't help.

"What?" he asked, seeing her reaction, glancing at the text again.

"Contemplations on mortality. You have to ask?" She said this with both eyebrows up.

He looked at it again. "You can read it that way, I suppose."

Bella took the book from his hand, holding it in front of her to read. "'Death comes in a day or two,'" she read. "Ya think?"

"So negative," he murmured, taking it back. "'Suffer me to take your hand. Suffer me to cherish you Til the dawn is in the sky,'" he quoted.

Bella stuck a finger on the poem's concluding lines, "'Whether I be false or true, Death comes in a day or two.'"

He wanted to say something light to counter her worry, but it was a real, palpable thing. She would die. He'd made his peace with that and with how he would follow. She hadn't though, and he didn't know if she ever would.

"The finiteness of life is what gives it so much meaning, Bella." He said it softly, but firmly.

"Yes," she said, "it is. It's just . . . I will. And you won't."

He pressed his forehead to hers. "I will follow you, wherever you go, even there."

She snorted out a laugh. "Going to go get some grey hair dye too?"

"Absolutely," he grinned. "Stick-on wrinkles. The whole nine yards."

They rested there a moment, hands together, eyes down. Bella wanted very much not to think about the ultimate outcome of her aging and Edward's very static nature.

"So," Edward said, wanting to bring things back to easier topics, "your mother isn't too happy with me."

Bella looked up at him. "Why?" she asked, a little alarmed. Renée liked everyone. "You didn't talk about marriage or something, did you?" Her voice rose half an octave, alarmed.

He laughed. "No, not even close."

"What then?"

"She noticed your back, that's all. I was chastised for not noticing it earlier."

"What about my back?"

"Well," he said, "it is my fault. When you broke your hand, you started carrying Sarah on your left side. You haven't stopped. Your back is off balance."

"Oh," she said, relief making her relax her shoulders. "Here I was thinking something was really wrong."

"You don't think your body is worth taking care of?" he asked.

"I do, but it's pretty minor," she said.

"Of course," Edward said seriously. "Who needs their back? Totally useless piece of anatomy."

She rolled her eyes. "It's fine."

He was thinking though, watching her grow defensive, tying bits of memory together. "You don't like having your back rubbed, do you?"

Bella felt a small squirm, seeing this identified so precisely. She didn't like to admit it. "No," she said quietly.

He stayed facing her, watching. He didn't say anything, but his features were open.

"Jacob used to rub my back when I was pregnant," she said quietly. "When you rubbed my back that time, it brought back a lot of memories. It was . . . difficult to remember."

Edward nodded slowly. After a moment he said, "And if I rubbed your back now, do you think that would happen again?"

"It might," Bella said.

"And what would you do?"

"I'd probably cry," she said, shifting her weight from one side to the other.

"And what do you think I would do?" he asked.

The thought came, unbidden. Maybe what Jacob did. She wanted to shake it away.

Her silence and the flush on her cheeks spoke eloquently. It was what Edward had suspected.

"I would tell you that I love you and do whatever else you needed me to," he said.

She nodded slowly, a little uncertainly. Then, she cleared her throat and said softly, "Well then, would you rub my back, please?" She turned so that her back was to him.

"Happily," he said. .

She was surprised when the expected flood of memory didn't materialize. They talked, ruminating over their day, Edward laughing at the many childhood reminiscences that had bubbled up to the surface in their trip. When he got her to lie down though, she was assailed by the remembrance that had waited for its timely moment. Edward stopped and picked her up, holding her until the tears were exhausted.

"Suffer me to cherish you," he whispered softly.

She smiled uncertainly through the tears and kissed him, recalling only to herself the responding line of the poem, for 'Death comes in a day or two.'

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	37. Lectures

A/N for 2020-03-28: Many thanks to chaysara for beta-ing this story. As usual, I fiddled with her work after the fact, so all errors are my own.

* * *

"Excited," Charlie asked, "or nervous?"

"Both." Bella grinned, taking a bite of her toast.

"It doesn't seem so long ago you were just starting high school here," Charlie muttered. "You're makin' me feel old."

Bella stopped chewing.

"Not you," he said, seeing her look, jiggling Sarah on one knee, "me."

"Well, you are a grandpa," she said, putting the grin back on. It didn't quite make her eyes crinkle.

"A very young one," he said, as if to himself, looking at Sarah.

"All right, I'm off. Can't want to hear all about mommy's first day of school!" he said to Sarah.

Bella giggled. "That'll be quite the conversation you two'll have."

Some hours later, when Bella, Sarah and Edward reached the small lecture hall, Bella let out a big breath. "Okay, you've got everything you need?" she asked Edward—again.

"Yes." He smiled. "I'll see you at the break, okay?" He was looking forward to time with just Sarah. He'd be near and so would Jasper and Alice, but as far as Sarah was concerned, it was just him. Her preferences had grown more distinct of late, and he saw this as a perfect time to ingratiate himself with her. He'd brought along a whole assortment of her favourite shiny objects. He had her turned away, mesmerized by the flickering lights on the glass doors, so Bella could walk away to class unnoticed. He let his mind sift through the thoughts of the students in the lecture hall, noticing those who noticed Bella.

He didn't like all the eyes that followed her but contented himself with the fact that he could assure himself of her well-being even in the absence of his bodily proximity.

The more attentive minds flicked themselves towards the centre of the room, attending to the instructor, a woman of small stature but with an impressive voice and an even more impressive mind. The less academically inclined were paying vague attention to the presentation, taking a much more detailed inventory of the bodies, and their various appeals, in the room. One of those minds was sitting adjacent to Bella.

A boy.

She glanced at him when he looked at her, giving a polite smile, but then bent her head back towards her notes.

She was focused intently, Edward could see, pen noisy on the page. Her hand was still awkward, unpractised. She hadn't written much in the last few months, certainly not since her hand was broken. Maybe she would type better? He wondered if he could convince her to borrow a laptop. It would be easier for her.

The instructor was directing students to pair up.

Edward groaned. She was one of those teachers who was eager to 'engage' the class. It'd been years since he'd found a lecture worth attending, one that wasn't a rehashing of old ideas wrapped in new phrasing, but how he longed for a professorial address that was meant to be reached for, struggled with. This . . . he sighed. Bella seemed above this.

He watched, though, seeing her face in the minds of those around her. The boy, Matt, had persisted with his attention. He was failing to maintain eye contact, his gaze slipping chestward at regular intervals.

Edward's dislike of him grew.

The boy was unattached, romantically anyway, and he was speculating as to Bella's status. No ring, he'd noted.

The lecture, if you could call it that, resumed.

Sarah gurgled contentedly in his arms, and he narrated her thoughts quietly to her, making simple signs with his hands when he caught the things she wanted most. Bella had been skeptical of using the hand signs, but Edward's reasoning had undercut her uncertainty.

"She will start talking, likely much earlier than other babies, because I can hear her thoughts," Edward had said. "Sign language offers people something plausible in terms of an explanation."

She'd nodded silently, her forehead wrinkling.

"Children are very accepting, but they're also very perceptive," Edward had said. "Fortunately, adults are much less so." He'd seen the flicker of worry on her face.

Now, as Sarah watched the refracting light of the small crystal in his hand, he wondered what she'd think of him in the sun. He couldn't show her, he knew, not if they wanted a normal life for her, but still he wondered.

Edward could feel Sarah tending towards sleep, her little hands curled to her eyes, rubbing them over her small yawns just as the students were getting up for their break. "Mama's coming," he whispered to her, smiling when he saw Bella's face in her thoughts.

Bella rushed out, slightly breathless. "Oh good," she said smiling, "I was worried she'd fall asleep. This is Matt, by the way." She added, "Matt, Edward."

Edward didn't extend his hand but nodded and smiled politely. No need to arouse suspicions with his cold touch.

"And this," Bella said, smiling with pride, "is Sarah, my daughter."

"Nice to meet you both," Matt said.

Sarah had realized who was there, though, and was making her demands known, arching her back and fussing. Sitting down on one of the benches by the window, Bella put her to the breast.

Matt did not avert his eyes.

Edward's features took on a stony hue.

"I'm getting a coffee," Matt said, making his offer pointedly to Bella. "Can I get you anything?"

"Oh thanks, I'm fine," Bella said politely, still focused on Sarah, seemingly unaware of Matt's gaze and Edward's own possessive stare.

"Okay, see ya in a bit," Matt said, turning and walking away.

Edward watched him go through narrowed eyes.

"You know," Bella said, still not looking up, "I think the death stare might make it hard for me to make new friends."

Edward looked at her, frowning. "He'd be running," he muttered quietly, sitting down beside her, "not walking to get a coffee if it was the death stare."

"I know you can hear everyone's thoughts," Bella said quietly, feeling him put his arm around her, "but for the rest of us, we rely on people's words and choices to define them."

"Thoughts become words. Words become actions, and actions define people. Trust me," Edward said softly, "he isn't worth your time."

Bella flushed angrily. "And you being a pushy control freak isn't worth my time either. Back off."

The break was up, and Bella was pulling Sarah away, rubbing her back, being rewarded with a loud, milky belch. "I have to go," she said more softly, seeing her daughter asleep.

Edward nodded, his face carefully impassive. He was measuring the weight of Bella's anger against his own experience. He knew better. Knew what creatures like Matt were. They weren't worthy of her time, let alone her friendship.

For the remainder of the lecture, Edward could see that Bella was distracted, her hand still struggling taking notes but missing things she shouldn't be. The telltale burn in her cheeks came and went, and he knew he was the cause of it.

He was right. He knew he was right, and yet, it didn't matter. She needed to see it for herself.

He hadn't liked Jacob Black, either, but that boy had helped her. Yes, he had hurt her in the end, but he also helped her, he reminded himself. He himself had hurt Bella too. No one was blameless.

The equivalent of a growl rippled through him emotionally just thinking about the bent of Matt's thoughts.

"That bad?" Jasper asked, leaning against the window frame.

"Tch," Edward said, rocking the stroller back and forth.

"Alice made me come check," Jasper added. "She wouldn't tell me why, though."

Edward frowned. He wasn't contemplating doing anything . . . rash, at least, in his mind. It didn't escape his notice that Alice wasn't close enough for him to hear her.

Then Edward caught what Jasper was thinking.

"Please," he muttered, "as if."

"That's what Alice said. I'm just the messenger."

"Well, you can tell Alice that she's a chicken if she can't say it to my face."

Jasper grinned, one eyebrow arched. "Your funeral, man." He was gone.

Bella didn't say much when the class ended but nodded when Edward asked if she was ready to go home.

Things were quiet in the car, but Edward could tell that Bella was working up to something.

Finally, she opened her mouth.

"You can't push away people that you don't like in my life."

"I'm not," he said, "and I wouldn't."

"Death stare," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Hardly," Edward said, not rolling his eyes but wanting to.

"Edward," she said, "who are your friends?"

He looked sideways at her, frowning. What did that have to do with anything? "My family," he said, "our cousins in Denali."

"Friends, Edward."

"Friendship is . . . different when you're a vampire," he said, eyebrows together, trying to explain this. "We don't really have . . . friends. The ties that bind are deeper, much more profound."

"Exactly," Bella said.

He took her point.

"I have friends, and I would like to continue to make them," she said.

"And I would never interfere with that—"

"You'll just stand there staring at them with open hostility."

He hadn't, he knew. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "How should I have handled that better?"

"Smiled," she said, "looked relaxed, not cared that he stared at my boobs?"

Edward turned to her again, frowning noticeably.

"People do that when I nurse. Not a big deal."

Edward blew out a breath. "Different times indeed," he said.

"Be accepting of my choices even when you don't like them."

He reached his hand over to take hers. "I love you, and I will accept your choices."

"Good," she said, "because you'd have to learn to like disappointment if you didn't."

He chuckled as he heard her words mirrored back at him.

That night when he returned, hearing Charlie asleep, he found her ruminating over the book he'd given her.

"I expected to find you knee deep in course reading," he said softly.

"It sort of is," she said. He saw a half smile on her face, but it didn't stretch to her eyes, and he heard the note of sadness in her voice.

He slid behind her on the bed, settling her on his lap. "This one again?" he asked. "I thought it was too morbid for you."

She nodded, and he could hear her breathing catch in her throat. He wasn't surprised to see the tears follow.

"Hey," he said, turning her to face him, "what is it? I'm sorry about earlier today—"

"No, no," she said, shaking her head. "It isn't about this afternoon. It was what we talked about last week."

He remembered everything from the week before, but wasn't sure exactly to what she was referring. He nodded, listening.

"You said, that when I die, you'll follow."

He nodded again, eyebrows drawn together. Why was this upsetting her now?

"You can't," she said.

Now he was confused. "Why?" he asked, feeling his own chest spasm. It was painful just to think of her gone.

"Sarah," she whispered. "You can't leave her."

The spasm in his chest spread. He had to tell himself that he didn't need to breathe. He wanted to deny any need for this conversation and run away from what she was suggesting. "Why?" he asked, hoping this was simply a misconception he could correct.

"She's a wolf, Edward. How can she not be?"

"Okay," he said, trying to tease out the logic he couldn't fathom.

"They don't age when they change. Not when there are vampires nearby."

The full meaning of what she was asking was a vice around his centre. He reminded himself again that he didn't need to breathe.

He would have to live without her. And not the vaporous existence he'd known in his time away.

He would need to live— for Sarah.

"We're a package deal," Bella said, "and if you need to leave, if you can't"—her voice broke, but she forced out the next words "I'll understand, but . . . I would need you to leave now. I can't—"

He put his finger to her lips. "No," he said, "never. I'm not leaving." He wrapped her in his arms. "I love you, and I love her too. I will stay for her as long she needs me as long as she wants me."

Edward kept his arms tight. He didn't want her to pull away, to see his face until he could master all the feelings that played freely there. His reaction had taken liberties with the muscles in his face, and he looked like a man pained by a grief he could taste in the air. He knew the span of a human life.

When Bella finally pulled away, Edward's arms were locked. "Edward?" she whispered. "It's getting hard to breathe."

He let go. "Sorry."

Bella stopped, obviously alarmed at the expression on his face.

"I'll . . . need time," he said, "to . . . grow accustomed to this."

She nodded gravely. "Then I may as well tell you the one other thing you need to know," Bella said.

There was more?

Edward swallowed and brought his gaze to her eyes.

"I may just be . . . paranoid, but if it ever comes to you only being able to save one of us, I need you to save Sarah."

He shook his head. "It won't." He was rapidly running through scenarios and could only imagine in the most extreme circumstances such a thing happening. He wouldn't put them in such situations, never in a situation that would put them at risk.

"Then you won't have trouble promising?" she said.

"I promise," he said solemnly.

She was still breathing faster than he liked, but Bella continued. "Because I couldn't imagine living, knowing it was at her expense." She shook her head, trying to stop the feeling inside, not caring for the tears that blurred her vision. "It's like . . . it's like having my heart walking around in her body. I can't—"

"No," Edward said, holding her more gently. "I'll keep you both safe." He kissed the top of her head and then her cheeks and then felt her lips on his own.

Her hands strayed into fresh territory at his hips, and he kept his own safely locked at her back. He still didn't trust their volition.

He could feel her fingers tracing the lines of his body over the fabric of his shirt up over the shoulders and then down, zigzagging over his chest to his waist. She paused there, their lips still uninterrupted by air or anything but the small sounds from their throats. She let her hands find his lower back, sliding downwards.

His own hands broke free and moved, matching hers in pattern and scope. He knew he was dangerously on the edge of losing control, of moving beyond the limits he'd set for himself. It was easy to lean into her, make the press of their bodies tighter.

It was the proximity that made her tense, though, and he stopped, feeling it. She hadn't stopped kissing him, but he'd tasted the quality of it shifting, tripping over the edge of ease into something else.

The tremble in her hand, brought to her mouth as he made space between them, was telling. Nerves. Or fear. He wasn't sure which.

Then she blushed and grinned, looking down.

He grinned back at her, seeing what had caught her attention. "Is it terrible that I love that I can do that to you?"

She kept shaking her head, still grinning. "Turn around please," she said. Seeing his quizzical look, she smiled coyly, lowering her voice, "Or not."

When he saw what she was about to do, he turned quickly.

"It's safe," she said. Her voice sounded just the teensiest bit smug. He could hear the soft thump of her wet shirt thrown into the laundry pile. "I'm decent."

"If you say so," he said, turning around and picking her up, this time keeping his touch in safe locations. "Do you have much more schoolwork tonight?"

"No. I was just waiting up for you."

"I was wondering," he said, "seeing as Charlie is away a bit next week, if you wanted to spend the night with us. He added, "I'm sorry to say, Alice has plans. I, however, will be a perfect saint."

She snorted. "I'm sure you will."

"It would be nice to have you there and spare the family standing guard in the woods." He didn't like to tug at her with guilt, but it was true.

"If Charlie's not here, there's nothing to stop them from coming in," Bella said, but seeing his look, laughed. "Okay, I get it. Sure, Sleepover it is." Then she added, "But I expect you to protect me from Alice."

"I can protect you from anyone . . . except, Alice," he promised.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	38. To be proven wrong

A/N for 2020-04-4: Many thanks to chaysara for beta-ing this story. As usual, I fiddled with her work after the fact, so all errors are my own. I hope you are all doing well in these uncertain times.

\- Erin

* * *

Charlie had looked at her levelly when she explained where she'd be next Wednesday night. "Spending the night with Edward?"

"That," she said, blowing a breath over her coffee, "was not what I said. I'm spending the night at the Cullens."

"Hmph," he replied.

After a few minutes, he put down the paper, frowning. "You don't have plans to go to Seattle anytime soon, do you?"

"No, why?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Gettin' ugly there," he said and then mumbled something that sounded like, "and around here too." He passed the paper to her. "I know you've thought of going back to school there, but . . . I wasn't sure what your plans were now with"— he gestured uncertainly with his hand—"Edward in the picture." He mumbled into his cup.

Bella sighed. Edward was definitely in the picture. Edward was so much in the picture that he was the picture. "Yes," she said to herself, tapping her fingers on her cup.

Charlie looked up from the paper and then down again. "Are things still moving slowly in that department?"

Oh sure, Bella thought, discussions of marriage and life and death together, who raises Sarah if I die.

"Um . . . ," she started, not wanting to lie.

"I'm not blind, Bella," Charlie said, still studying the paper, giving her space to blush in private.

She sighed. "It's that obvious, huh?"

He said something that sounded like a half-born snort. "Your mother called me asking if I was, in her words, 'on top of this', and no, I have no idea what that means, but yes, I get that you two are serious."

"We are," Bella said carefully.

"He seems . . . really good with Sarah," Charlie said. "And that's . . . not something I would have expected." He was looking at her now. "I'm trying to get over my prejudices."

"Thank you, Dad." Bella said. "I appreciate that."

"I just hope neither of us comes to regret it."

Today, she didn't think she could ever regret her and Edward being together, but said nothing, smiling to herself over her coffee. That Charlie was more open to Edward was near miraculous. So was being together with Edward. She'd take her miracles where she could.

Her class on Thursday seemed to run at a much faster pace than the one before. There was partner-work this time, and a project, too, due in two weeks. Matt, who lived halfway between Forks and Port Angeles, suggested they might work together. "Sure," Bella said, silencing her smile. Talk about testing promises. Time would tell, she supposed.

The notes, at least, were easier to take with a laptop.

"Whoa," one of the other classmates said, "where'd you get that?"

"Oh, it's a loan from a friend," she said, having no idea what the 'Whoa' referred to.

"I didn't think those were out yet," the boy continued. "Can I have a look?" he asked.

"Sure." Bella shrugged. She was just glad it had a word processor. She listened to her classmate and his friend mumble in what sounded like an unintelligible language over it, reverently passing it back to her. "I wish I had friends like that," he said. "And you're using it for notes?" he asked, as if there was something wrong with this.

Edward smiled when she emerged at the end of class. He'd taken a bottle for Sarah and insisted Bella get a chance to meet her classmates. Her other classmates, he'd suggested, at breaktime. He'd arrived a little after the class had ended, Sarah babbling happily in one arm, gnawing contentedly on Edward's finger.

"Ready?" he asked, lightly touching her back. He could hear Matt's thoughts and, if he'd lacked good judgment, would have pulled her into a possessive embrace and kissed her in a way that left no mystery as to who he was in Bella's life. But, he had the advantage of age and simply smiled politely at Matt when the boy's glance caught his eye.

"I'll text," Bella said, waving to Matt. As she turned to face Edward and Sarah, her smile grew, making her cheeks glow. "Hi," she said softly to Edward, standing on tiptoes to kiss him and then reaching for Sarah. Her daughter squawked in displeasure and resumed chewing on Edward's finger.

"Wow," Bella said, eyebrows up. "That's new."

Edward grinned. "Built-in teething relief. Better me than you."

"I'll say," Bella said, absentmindedly folding her arms across her chest. Sarah had bitten her for the first time days before. Nursing now felt like a nervous gamble.

Bella was beginning to regret registering for two classes. One was online, which saved her from being physically present for a lecture, but it meant more reading, and Sarah was beginning to demand more of her active time.

It was Billy who pointed a finger at her in warning. "Too much," he said over Sunday dinner. "And not accepting enough help."

Between Edward taking Sarah during class and Charlie, who shooed her out of the house at least once a week to go for a walk, with a "Go grocery shopping, if you must, but get out for a bit!" Bella wasn't sure she was much of a parent in between it all.

She said as much to Billy, embarrassed at just how much help she'd already needed and had.

"You know," he said, taking her hand, "they don't talk about it 'taking a village' for nothing." He went on. "I know you don't have a car right now, but we can figure out some time so I can take her. You can at least read or get some school work done then."

"Thank you, Billy," she said with more feeling than she expected. "That means a lot."

"You can always count on me," he said, "all of us. You're family."

And so, Sue picked up Sarah on Wednesday morning. "Good work," Sue told her. "I'm glad you're taking Billy up on the offer."

"Why?" Bella asked. Billy'd done so much already.

"Billy needs some grandpa time, and you need some you time. It's easier when you're not there."

Bella's eyebrows went up at this.

"Don't take it the wrong way," Sue said, waving her hand at Bella, "but you'll come running if she cries. This way," she smiled at Sarah, "Billy and Sarah get some real time together, and you can focus."

It was strange, watching Sue drive away with Sarah. She was excited for the time to read, to write, and to work on her project with Matt, but felt a guilty squirm. Time alone felt odd. She'd shooed Edward away, dismissing his protests that his black eyes meant nothing. He hunted, but not as much as he needed to, and she'd felt guilty watching them darken in hunger. She knew Esme was nearby, somewhere, but that she'd be largely undisturbed.

After running through a few chores with two free hands—which was a luxury unto itself—she took her books and walked over to the small café in town where Matt was meeting her later.

She sat, reading, studying, and writing for a full hour before Matt arrived. She felt like a whole new person by then.

"Whoa," he said, seeing her, "no baby."

"No." She smiled, moving her books aside. "It would be kinda counter-productive to have her here."

"Too bad," he said, sitting down, and pulling out his own notebook. "She's cute."

"Yes, she is," Bella said, smiling. "So, what are your thoughts for the introduction?"

Through texts to one another, they'd split up the work the weekend before.

"Right," Matt said, "to business."

But Matt, it became clear, was less interested in the schoolwork and more interested in socializing.

"Is Sarah with Edward?"

"No," she said, making a quick note, "with her grandpa." They didn't have much time, and she was trying to be efficient with it. She pushed her presentation notes towards him, frowning at his, which were scant and poorly planned.

"She looks a lot like you, not much like her dad."

"What?" Bella said, looking up from her writing.

"Your baby doesn't look like her dad."

"Edward?"

"Yeah."

"He's not her dad," she mumbled.

"Oh," Matt said, pretending to write something down. He at least had the manners to look embarrassed, presuming so much.

"Her dad died last year," Bella said softly, hoping this would push him back into the safe territory of work.

But no.

"Sorry," he said. "What happened?"

"Car accident," she said tersely. "September. Do you have other notes?" She tapped her pencil on the table.

"Sure," he said, fishing through a pile of loose papers in his bag.

Damn. She would pick someone disorganized to work with.

He leaned too close to her when he brought out a crumpled piece of paper. "Here," he said.

More gobbledygook. Scanning it, Bella recognized notes on a basic library search. Useless.

She sighed. "I think," she said, "that maybe we need to do a bit more work before we actually put together this presentation."

"Sure." Matt smiled in a way that showed he was aiming to be endearing. Bella was finding it annoying. "Love to. Want to maybe grab a coffee for now?" he suggested.

"No, actually," Bella said, counting her precious few remaining minutes. What a waste of time. "I should get home and get some things done."

"Oh, c'mon," Matt said, "stay and have a drink." He had put his hand over hers, cocking his head to the side. "When was the last time you had coffee with a friend?"

She smiled, a nervous reaction. He'd jumped the queue from classmate to friend awfully fast. "Thanks, no. I'll email you with my notes."

He stood, his solid shape blocking her path to the door, still smiling, "Is Edward that possessive?"

She hissed in a breath at his presumption. The temptation to do more was strong, but the ache in her right hand was a warning. The memory of its brokenness and all the consequences of that impetuous choice rippled through her.

"No," she said, "because I am not a possession. Move, please. Now."

Matt shrugged. "'kay, see you next week."

"Don't count on it," Bella muttered and pushed past him.

Edward was standing across the street, leaning against his car, hands in his pockets. He appeared conspicuously casual.

Bella stopped, looking at him, eventually crossing to join him. "Hey," she said, "I wasn't expecting you here. I thought you were—"

"I was," he said softly, "with Alice."

"Oh," she said. "I see." Then she reached up and pulled his sunglasses down a fraction of an inch to reveal his still very black eyes. "And you didn't actually hunt." She made it sound every bit like the accusation it was.

"No," he admitted. "Alice foresaw . . . difficulties," and he lifted his chin in the direction she'd come from. He'd put his hands on her hips, drawing her close.

Bella rolled her eyes. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Oh no," Edward smiled, "you did beautifully. It was the other . . . possibilities that were a little dicey." He looked at her right hand, resting on his arm.

She chuckled. "It did cross my mind."

"Mmm-hmm," he said. "So, seeing as I'm here, can I offer you a ride home?"

"Nope," she said, "I'm walking."

"Why?" he asked, as if he found the activity distasteful.

"Well," she said, "We had a deal, and you haven't kept your end of it. "

"Easily remedied," he said.

"Yes, it is," she smiled. "Glad you're going to go do that."

Matt chose this moment to emerge from the cafe, ducking away down the street. Edward's eyes followed him.

"You can say it if you want," Bella mumbled, watching his gaze.

"Say what?" Edward asked, still tracking the boy's movements with his eyes.

"That you were right."

He snapped his attention back to her. "That would be unkind . . . .and frankly, I was rather hoping I'd be proven wrong."

Bella sighed. "Well, you were right, it seems. I should probably see about doing this project by myself." She frowned.

"A ride home could give you extra time to get that work done before Sarah's back," Edward murmured, leaning forward, kissing her forehead.

"Somehow," she said, pushing herself back, "I see distractions along the way." She grinned. "Happy hunting. I'll see you later," and she walked away.

Edward was still absent when Alice picked her and Sarah up later. "Oh good," she said, "I'm really glad you didn't punch him. I saw another cast coming out of that move."

Bella ignored this obvious taunt, asking instead, "Edward's still gone?"

"Yes," Alice said pertly, adding nothing else.

"Why?"

"Hunting," she said.

Bella eyed her shrewdly, knowing it was useless to press for more information. She huffed out a breath.

Esme was ready for her though.

"How did you know?" Bella asked, seeing what she'd made. "That's my favourite. Oh," and she took a bite, "that's Grandma's recipe." She looked at Esme, who smiled knowingly.

"I might have gotten it from Charlie," she said, waving a hand airily.

"The powers you wield," Bella murmured to her over the food. "This is amazing, thank you."

"I figured you could use a break from cooking," she said, looking over at Sarah, who was giggling in Rose's arms. She and Alice were making faces together, trying to get the baby to laugh.

"I barely feel like I've been her mother today," Bella said.

Esme snorted.

Bella didn't think she'd ever heard her make so graceless or derisive a sound.

"Motherhood is not a series of actions or chores" she said firmly. "It's who you are. Just as being a father is. It alters you permanently. There is no 'being' someone's mother, you simply are."

Bella wondered what this made Edward.

She'd insisted on putting Sarah to bed herself, having been away from her most of the day. She wanted the reassurance of her small body next to her own. When Sarah was fully asleep, she carefully transferred her to the bassinet by the bed.

Not to later, after refusing Alice's many offers of bodily ministrations, Bella insisted she was ready to sleep herself.

Standing in Edward's room, she looked at the bed. It seemed even larger and more daunting than before. Quietly, so as not to disturb Sarah, she pulled the bedspread off and dragged it and a pillow over to the couch. She watched the dark of the trees, their subtle dance illuminated by the rare clarity of the moon.

When she woke sometime later, it was dark, and she realized she was entirely too comfortable to be lying on a sofa.

"Sorry," Edward whispered, "I didn't meant to wake you."

"Mmm," she said happily, "you're back."

He answered by sliding himself fully into the bed beside her. She rested her head on his arm.

"Did you hunt?"

"Yes," he whispered, kissing her neck.

"Good," she murmured, yawning.

"What is it, exactly, that you object to about this bed?

"Nothing." She chuckled. "It's just . . . intimidating."

"Well," he said, hitching her leg up, and rolling her on top of him, "you're the inaugural user, so consider it yours."

"What," she said, smiling, "are you doing?"

He rolled her over again, bringing her to the centre of the bed. "Just demonstrating its capacity for movement."

She giggled but felt other, stronger sensations swirling up her legs. He was perched over her, his weight just a suggestion brushing over her clothes. He brought a kiss to her clavicle, running his lips lightly up and down her jaw, finding that tender spot—yes, there, that one—on her neck, that made her gasp. She felt like a worm, pinned, squirming under the pleasure of his touch.

His hands were not so obedient this time, and neither were hers.

Her night clothes were loose and worn for the ease of access that allowed Sarah to nurse. Their stretch accomodated the span of a man's hands just as well.

She realized that the worry and nervousness that had touched her along with his hands were noticeably truant. Despite the press of his weight, brought gently down over her, she felt that familiar lightness that had touched her before. The anxiety, so precisely carved into her life by Edward's time gone, was fracturing, loosening, like an egg cracked.

She wondered what was about to be born.

These ruminations and the heavy breaths that marked them were stilled by Sarah's small but insistent wail.

Edward stopped, hands on either side of her, smiling, sighing, and kissing her forehead. He rolled to the side and scooped Sarah up, handing her to Bella. He took his place behind her, an arm around her waist, watching Sarah's contended squirm. With an ache he'd never expected, he longed to be able to call them his family.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	39. A Very Modest Proposal

“I loved Swift,” Leah said grinning, flipping through Bella’s book.

“What’s that?” Billy asked, looking at the wood-cut illustration on the front.

Charlie chuckled, holding Sarah. “Yum-yum,” he said, blowing a raspberry on her tummy.

“Eew, Dad,” Bella said, thinking about the reading.

“Someone fill me in,” Billy said, frowning.

“It’s from the 1700s,” Bella said. “Swift wrote this very sarcastic piece suggesting that eating Irish infants would be a good way to end the Irish famine.”

Billy looked alarmed.

“He didn’t actually  _ mean _ it,” Bella said. “Anyway, it’s called a ‘Modest Proposal,’” she mumbled, watching Charlie and Sarah.

He was still pretending to eat her, saying “Grandpa wolf is going to eat you up!”

Leah and Seth snorted and chuckled, while Sue shot them a warning glance. Billy turned his face to hide his grin, and Bella just shook her head.

“Long as it isn’t any other kind of proposal,” Billy muttered.

Everyone in the room clearly heard his remark, and Bella blanched, watching their reactions.

Clearing his throat, Billy amended his statement, “Any indecent ones like that anyway.”

The evening’s conversation limped on from there, Sue awkwardly herding people to the dinner table. Bella watched her father watching her, her palor running to what she knew would be a telling blush. 

On the drive home, Charlie tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, ruminating over his conversation with Renée. He still wasn’t entirely sure what his ex-wife’s cryptic comment about ‘being on top of it’ had been about, but maybe it was this.

_ Were _ they thinking about getting married?

Bella had said she wanted things to go slowly, but seeing as Edward lurked around every corner and moment of her life, Charlie had a hard time believing the boy knew the meaning of the word.

He  _ was _ good with Sarah, though.

And Bella . . . she was happy. She’d finally gained back the weight she’d lost. She laughed now, smiled at things.

“Couldn’t help but see how you reacted,” Charlie said, “when Billy mentioned a proposal.”

Bella swallowed. She reminded herself she was an adult and not a chicken.

But she felt like a giant, feathery chicken.

About to be plucked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Is that something you two’ve talked about?”

“Jonathan Swift?” she asked politely.

“Bella,” Charlie said warningly.

She sighed, and looked down. “Yes.”

He put a hand over on her shoulder. “That’s not something to feel badly about,” he said softly.

“What?” she said, looking up.

“And I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel badly about you and Edward. I don’t. I just . . . ”

“Don’t like him.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I’m tryin’.”

“We’ve . . . talked about it,” Bella said.

Charlie didn’t say anything for a bit.

“If it’s what you want for you and Sarah, then you have my full support.”

Bella sat in stunned silence for a while, eventually managing to stop her gasping fish impression, "Okay,” she said.

“I love you, kiddo,” Charlie said, patting her shoulder and then returning his hand to the wheel.

When they got home, Bella was still mildly stunned.

Sensing that her defenses were down, Charlie asked her something she hadn’t expected at all. “Can I ask about you and Jacob?”

“Sure,” she said, tucking away the diaper bag and sitting down on the couch. Sarah was sleep in the carseat.

“Would you have married him?” he asked.

She stared at him for a bit, feeling the colour rise in her cheeks. “No,” she said quietly.

“Why not?” Charlie asked. “You were together, going to have a baby, moving in together . . . ”

“No,” she said, “I mean, we were going to do all those things, but . . . we weren’t together, not the way Edward and I are.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

She blushed, shaking her head. “We weren’t . . . it wasn’t like that.”

Charlie gestured to Sarah in her carseat, “I think she speaks to that,” he said.

This time her blush was stronger, and she looked down. “No,” she managed to say. “It was just the once. And, I wasn’t—I wasn’t ready.” She sighed. “I loved him, but it wasn’t the same, not like with Edward.” She frowned, knowing her explanation to be insufficient. Words, in general, seemed inadequate for the task.

Charlie’s eyebrows were pointed v’s as he processed this, his head nodded softly, rhythmically, like it would make more sense if he kept going. “Why then?” he asked. “Why stay together if . . . ”

“Jacob had a lot more faith in us than I did, Dad. I know he loved me more.” There were tears now.

He came and sat down beside her. “Don’t feel guilty about that.” It was so clear, seeing her face tense and tighten. “You love how you can. You’re a faithful person, Bella.”

“I know,” she said, “but he deserved better, Dad. And I can’t help but think that if we hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been in that car, coming to see me—”

“No,” he said, “don’t go there. No way you could know that, control it. Nothing you can do about it.”

“It’s really easy to say that. It’s harder to believe it.”

“Do you really think Jacob would want you to feel guilty?”

“No,” she said immediately.

“He would want someone to be a father to his child.”

Bella had to think for a bit about how to respond truthfully to this. “Yes, I’m sure he would.” Just not Edward.

The time passed between them, a quiet set of ticks on the clock.

“Dad,” Bella ventured, “I thought you would be totally opposed to the idea of marriage.”

“And I would be if you didn’t have Sarah, but parenthood changes things, changes you. It  _ has _ changed you.”

“And . . . mom?” she asked a little nervously, thinking about how this conversation would go with Reneé.

He chuckled. “Sorry, kiddo. You’re on your own there. No idea. You’d know better than me.”

Later that night, when Edward slipped quietly into her room, he mentioned none of the conversation he’d overheard. He hoarded the words joyously though, a small flame in his heart. 


	40. Valentine

A/N for 2020-04-18: Life has been quite challenging of late, so my posting schedule for this re-edited story has very much fallen off the rails. I remain most grateful for chaysara's work in beta-ing this story.

Important: you need to read the poem to "get" this chapter.

Enjoy!

\- Erin

* * *

**Valentine**

by Carol Ann Duffy

Not a red rose or a satin heart.  
I give you an onion.  
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.  
It promises light  
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.  
It will blind you with tears  
like a lover.  
It will make your reflection  
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.  
I give you an onion.  
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,  
possessive and faithful  
as we are,  
for as long as we are.

Take it.  
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,  
if you like.

Lethal.  
Its scent will cling to your fingers,  
cling to your knife.

* * *

When Bella was in class, Edward had learned to seek solitude with Sarah. His charms, already effective, were doubled with a baby in his arms.

He'd seen it before. Babies were their own magic. Anyone who'd had one would see Sarah and immediately recall with the most perfect clarity the cherubic face of their own infants.

Parents he could deal with, grandparents too, as they cooed and ooed over Sarah.

The unmothered, however, were a completely different sort of experience.

Their thoughts when they saw him without her ran to the plainly lascivious; with Sarah, they were downright salacious. It was disturbing at first, to hear and see, the difference.

The small campus had the advantage of being adjacent to the national park, and well-worn walking paths ran through it, all circling back to the populated parts of the school. He spent his time there when the weather allowed, Sarah snuggly wrapped in sweaters and blankets against his own chill in the baby carrier. She loved being outside, and when he could, he simply carried her in his arms, murmuring to her all the things she thought.

He'd been preoccupied by her interest in the water they could hear. A small brook, well fed by the early spring run-off was noisy, and she kept turning her head to its sound. He was trying to teach her the word 'water.' She had a host of them already that she knew from association, and he suspected he was pushing his luck with one so abstract, not being able to touch or see it, but he was trying.

He missed, in his concentration, the more distant sounds approaching. It was only when a pair of young women were within earshot that he realized he'd missed his chance to escape. He cursed his luck. Both women were unattached and avidly discussing this unhappy state on their morning jog.

"Oh," one of them said, spotting him on the small bridge. She thought many other, visually articulate things in that moment. "What a beautiful baby you have!"

He smiled politely. "Yes, she is," he murmured, turning his eyes back to Sarah.

To the onlooker, Sarah was less a person to them than Edward was. The two women were young enough that their interests ran to the vapid and tangible. Both had noticed the absence of a ring on his finger.

"How old is your daughter?" one of them asked, reaching out a finger to touch her foot.

"She's my girlfriend's, actually." He smiled, not bothering to give her age. They didn't care.

Their disappointment was a relief. One of them actually sighed out loud. The other muttered "Of course" internally. This didn't stop them from lingering though, their fantasies loud and stomach-churning. He normally tuned out such thoughts, and it wouldn't be difficult to do so in the moment, but he didn't want to close himself off to Sarah's mind.

The erstwhile joggers finally made their polite goodbyes, and Edward began the walk back to the lecture hall. "Let's find Mama," he said softly to Sarah.

Their arrival coincided with the beginning of the mid-lecture break, and Bella's grin was wide, seeing them.

Edward was happy to see that Matt was not present.

"Did you arrange to do your project on your own?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, smiling at Sarah, taking her, "kinda had to. My partners seems to have disappeared. He's skipped the last two classes."

Good riddance, Edward thought, but said instead, "Mmm. Did she give you an extension, at least?"

"I didn't ask for one," Bella said, hissing a bit, feeling Sarah latch.

"Gentle," he said to Sarah, frowning, massaging her leg. "Why not?"

"I don't need it." Bella yawned.

Edward disagreed.

When the lecture was done, he positioned himself where Bella would see him and Sarah when she came out. "Sorry," he whispered to Sarah, when she began to fuss. "She'll be here in a minute." He could have contented her easily, but he didn't. He waited for Bella to have the opportunity to do so.

She did, setting her bag down, taking Sarah deftly and nursing her.

Normally they found a quiet spot to do this away from prying eyes, but Edward's machinations were rewarded. The professor emerged a few minutes later, briefcase in hand. She looked over, eyes registering Bella. Edward allowed himself a small smile, hearing her silent recognition.

Excellent, he thought. The woman was surprised that Bella hadn't asked for an extension and was already planning to offer her one. She was impressed with the work she'd seen so far, more so now that she knew that Bella had such a young baby.

Bella caught the instructor's glance, smiling in acknowledgement as she passed by, then returning her gaze to Sarah.

At home, after watching Bella work through her notes and reading, Edward asked, "So, are there any rules about Valentine's Day, that I need to know about?"

Warily, Bella looked up at him from her book, then grinned slyly, remembering.

"Not a red rose or a satin heart . . . a cute card or a kissogram," she quoted.

He grinned, answering back. "Shall I give you an onion instead?"

She laughed a little. "I wasn't sure if you heard that part."

"Oh yes." He smiled, the lines of his lips bittersweet. "But I think I've already blinded you with tears and grief."

"I didn't mean it that way," she said, shaking her head.

"Oh, I know," he said, the smile more reassuring, "but really, any rules?"

"I wasn't joking," Bella said, still smiling, tapping her page with the end of her pencil.

"All right," he said, "no roses, hearts, cards, or kissograms. Done." This seemed to leave a suitable repertoire of options from which he might choose.

He watched her smile nervously. This was the first time they'd encountered the date together.

"What was Valentine's Day like when you were younger?" she asked.

He smiled in remembrance, recalling the few memories he had of his father presenting his mother with something. "Oh," he said, "you know, make the ritual sacrifice of a kid—a young goat—preferably under the light of a full moon, of course."

He caught her hand before she could smack him and allowed himself a silent grin. After he kissed her fingers, he held it between both his own. "Only for lovers," he said. "Not the sort of thing schoolchildren would celebrate, a much more serious affair than it is now."

"And," she asked tentatively, "is it a serious affair for you?"

"Yes," he said, taking her hand, "why?"

"Just wondering," she said. Her fluttering heart rate told him more though.

Bella had turned back to her book and was flipping through the pages, obviously hiding some discomfort in the text there.

"Perhaps," he said softly, "I could take you to dinner that day? Just us?"

Edward could see the frown at her eyebrows forming. Did she not want to go out to celebrate . . . them or was she concerned about something else?

"Is dinner off the list of options too?" he asked lightly.

"No" She shook her head. "Just wondering if Charlie would be free to watch Sarah."

"Ah." He smiled. "Why don't we ask Esme and Carlisle?"

"You don't think they'd mind?"

He chuckled. "I don't think that's possible. They adore her."

"That would be lovely," she said, "dinner out, but what about you? What would a woman of your time have given her valentine?"

"She wouldn't have," he said. "The pleasure of her company was beyond recompense." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it again. "And it still is."

\- 0 -

"See?" Alice asked, "aren't you glad you came over early so I could help you get ready?"

"I am. Thank you, Alice," Bella said. It wasn't entirely truthful, but it seemed of a sufficient quantity to pass for the thing itself. She wasn't sure of Alice's sense of style, either, but knew her own ignorance was a poor guide. She did wish she felt more suited to the gracefulness of the dress. The knee length wrap was an intimate, burgundy silk that was cut modestly and elegantly. It suggested the possibility of being unwrapped carefully.

Of being undone.

Bella already felt so well undone when she was in Edward's presence, sensible clothing was like armour. To say she felt naked walking out to find him was an understatement.

His gaze told her how much he appreciated the dress.

He, however, was alarmed by all the small things that told him she was either excited and nervous or scared. Her breathing was too fast, eyes micro-focused, and her heart thudded loudly in her chest.

He came close, taking her hands, kissing her forehead. "Is Alice done torturing you?" He smiled gently.

She smiled back, laughing a little. "Yes, I think so. I suspect she did a good job," Bella admitted, "because I feel like I'm one step away from a wardrobe malfunction." She blushed as she said it, and he smiled, seeing it.

"I can absolutely see why." He grinned. "Don't worry. I'll avert my eyes if it happens."

"I'm holding you to that," she mumbled as they walked to the car.

The small, white quayside building they pulled up to was unassuming. Its inside was, by contrast, elegant and austere, the white-draped tables smattered with their own constellations of candles.

After they ordered, they listened to the dark wash of the water, murmuring to each other in small pieces of easy conversation. They played with each other's hands at the table and exchanged thoughts on the lecture she was attending.

Edward insisted on dessert. "It looks beautiful," he said. "One of us should enjoy it for more than just its appearance." As they waited, he said, "I have a lot to show appreciation for."

Bella looked quizzical and flushed, suspecting a compliment coming her way.

"I'm with you—the woman I love. You love me," he said, "and I freely give you my promise to always love you, to protect you, and to protect those you love. Forever."

"I know," Bella said softly. She wasn't sure why he was saying it now.

"You do, and I'm telling it to you again because I want you to think that if we've already told each other we want to be together and that we love each other, that we should start being together, loving one another in a much more formal way." He was pressing a small box into her hand. She could feel the prickling fuzz of its velvet against her sweating palm.

"I want to tie myself you to in every human way, Bella, in any way. But I want the human world to know what we are and that I am yours, and you are mine, that we three are a family." He paused, watching her. "Please just think about how natural, how logical this is, to be this way," he finished, and clicked the box open, setting it in front of her.

"Will you marry me, Bella?" he asked softly.

His hands were still over hers.

She wanted to say yes, but all that would come out from behind the tears was an uncertain sound at her throat.

Edward made himself keep his expression, trying to give her time, not allowing the possibility of denial to be seen there.

When the raspy "Yes," emerged, he was almost as jittery as she was.

He kissed her, sliding off his chair and kneeling at her feet, pulling her to him.

When they returned to the house later that evening, the others had disappeared as they heard them approaching, Edward catching their silent congratulations along with the click of the back door as they opened the front. Sarah was sound asleep, and Bella breathed a sigh of relief seeing her so. It was always hard to leave her, even in as expert hands as were Carlisle and Esme's.

Edward picked Bella up, carrying her to the living room where he kissed her, and she responded in kind. He liked the sultry texture of the silk, rough under his hands, its raw edges tantalizingly frustrating in obscuring what lay beneath them.

The glass of wine she'd had at dinner had slackened the corners of her inhibitions, and the curtain on them slid ever so slightly lower, leaving an enticing taste of possibility at the top of it.

There were two ties holding Bella's dress in place. The internal one had loosened over the course of the evening, and when the friction of not-so-careful hands slackened the outer one, the wrap slid obligingly open.

He had seen her—in glimpses in the hospital in Phoenix, in the eyes of care practitioners whose thoughts he didn't guard against quite fast enough, and when she nursed Sarah, but he hadn't seen her like this, not her flesh responding to his, cupped in florid lace.

He hadn't known that the flush in her cheeks began squarely mid-chest, that its warmth under his hands made it feel like his own heart beat again.

Edward closed the gap between them, hands on the canvas of her nearly-naked back, exploring. When he reached her hips, he felt the alluring space of skin between the garter and the stockings Bella wore.

Bella was acutely aware of every hardness his body presented. They were a thought away from a bedroom. Their solitude held so many possibilities, but she wasn't sure.

And that one worry slivered into her consciousness.

There was too much disquiet then. His body had arched over her own, bending it back against his arms. She had no leverage and no way to move away.

He wanted badly to abandon the lines he'd set for himself, to carry her to a bed, and to let his body know all the spaces of hers intimately. He kept a tight stranglehold on his baser desires.

"Stop," she whispered when she couldn't let her own thoughts continue.

He paused, mid kiss, moving her back to a fully standing position slowly, not wanting to strain her. Her hands were trembling. Was that just now, or had he missed it? "Did I—?" he asked softly. He wasn't sure how to finish the question.

She didn't say anything for a while but then shook her head. "No," she said, but her hands still shook.

"Did I frighten you?" he asked gently, silently berating himself for letting this happen.

"No, not you." She sighed.

"But you're afraid of something," he said, beginning to suspect.

"Myself," she said, without hesitation, making herself breathe carefully. "Screwing this up. You leaving."

"I won't leave," he said softly, "and how could you possibly screw this up?"

"I could get a paper cut," she said, this time with tears.

His body became more solid. She still worried about that. Of course she did. He'd taught her so well.

"No," he said, arms around her, "I will never leave you, and we will not live directly with my family. That wouldn't be safe for you and Sarah. We can be close, but we'll have our own home."

Her tears were growing in volume. Had she finally realized just how dangerous he was? Was she regretting saying yes?

His mind jarred to the poem they'd made light of.

It could so easily speak to what they were.

"Perhaps I _should_ have gotten you an onion," he said, hoping his humour wouldn't falter. He was still holding her in his arms. He'd gently tied her dress back together.

She laughed through her tears.

"I am fierce and possessive or too much so if I take you at your word." Edward pulled her to the couch, sitting with her.

She was wiping the back of her hand across her eyes when a laugh escaped.

"And I have blinded you with tears," he added grinning, seeing her mood lighten.

She held out her left hand, her voice still hoarse from the tears. "Platinum," she said softly. "Nice touch," she added, grinning. "Well planned."

"Won't shrink," he added, kissing her hair.

Neither of them spoke the other word that held true. No. It was too true to be hung lightly with these other words.

Lethal, he thought.

But Bella was thinking_ faithful, as we are, for as long as we are._

How long would they be? She'd already tasted the grief of loss at his hands and with Jacob. The world held no promises. She knew this.

"Still want you," she said, "onions and all."

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	41. Plans

Posted 2020-04-24

* * *

Charlie had offered them his solemn congratulations. It was so uncharacteristic of him that it made Bella nervous hearing it.

"I'm happy for you," he said, meaning it, but with the worry an undercurrent. Edward had so much more collateral to hurt her with now. He could only hope he didn't. Trust did not come easily to Charlie Swan, at least as it pertained to Edward Cullen.

"Thank you, Dad," Bella said.

There was a stiff shaking of hands between Edward and Charlie and a level look. It was the least fraught exchange they'd had since Edward's return.

"When were you thinking?" Charlie asked after Edward left, Sarah curled comfortably against his chest, playing with his fingers.

"For?" Bella asked, reading over her notebook. She was wondering about project due dates.

"Uh, the wedding?" Charlie asked, eyebrows up.

"Oh," she said. "May, after classes are done."

"That's soon," he said. "Jumping the gun on Sue and me," he added more playfully.

She looked up, mild alarm on her face.

"I'm kidding," he said. "And trust me, you're welcome to. Youth gets priority here." He cleared his throat. "You should tell Billy, though. In person."

"Yes." Bella sighed. "I will. Before Sunday dinner."

"Definitely before dinner," Charlie agreed.

They arrived at Billy's house on the pretext of giving him a ride to said Sunday dinner. Charlie invented a last-minute errand to the store to give Bella and Billy some time alone.

"Spit it out," he said, as soon as Charlie left.

"What?" she asked, feeling like a deer caught in his gaze.

"Whatever it is you need to tell me. You're jittery as a thief. What's up?"

She did feel like a thief about to steal Sarah away to a coven of vampires. Literally.

The words fell out of her mouth. "Edward proposed. I said yes." She hadn't worn her ring. It was in her pocket, ready to be deployed if or when appropriate. Or not.

Billy took a deep breath in and then let it out. "I figured that was coming," he said softly.

She stared at him, body tight with anticipation.

"Do you love him?"

"Yes," she said. No hesitation there.

"He loves you?"

"Yes."

"And Sarah?"

She nodded.

"I don't like it, Bella, but it's not my life to live. I'm sorry I can't be happy about it." He was staring at his own hands, these around Sarah.

"I'm sorry too," Bella said.

"You shouldn't be," he sighed. "Be happy. You've had enough of sadness. I'll work on my end of it."

With his free arm, he pulled her into an awkward hug, and she responded, surprised by his tears.

"So," he said, clearing his throat, "no ring?"

She blushed. "Yes, there is a ring." She fished it out of her pocket, slipping it on.

Billy took her hand, looking at it. "That," he said, "is very old. And beautiful."

"Yes," she said, "his mother's."

He nodded his approval.

"Will Sarah keep her name?" he asked. It had meant something to him when Bella had chosen Jacob's last name for her.

"Of course," she said. "This won't change who she is."

"No," he agreed, "but I wouldn't begrudge you all having the same name. It does make life simpler." Their life would be complicated enough. He wouldn't live to see all of it, he knew, but some of its complexities were only a few years away.

He asked the question he didn't want an answer to, dreaded the answer to.

"WIll you . . . become like them?" It was almost a whisper.

"No!" she said, a fervent insistence. She shook her head. "I couldn't do that to Sarah."

He looked at her. She knew, better than most, what the implications of this choice were. "You'll need to leave in not so many years," he said, "regardless."

"Yes," she said, "we will. We'll stay as long as we can. I'll visit when we move. Often."

"And Charlie?" he said. "You don't think he'll wonder where his son-in-law is?"

"He will, but we'll figure it out."

The sound of tires on gravel announced Charlie's return, and Billy squeezed her hand. "Ready to go tell Sue?" he asked. "No guarantees on the reactions there."

"No," Bella said, blowing out a breath, "there aren't, are there?"

Leah, Seth, and Sue had plastered the most artificial smiles on their faces possible when they heard the news. Charlie all but frowned seeing it.

He'd dragged Sue away for a quiet, berating set of words angrily whispered in the kitchen. Bella sat awkwardly with Sarah in her arms, holding her against the thinly concealed disbelief on Seth and Leah's faces. Billy was quiet but calm.

The conversation over dinner was forced. Charlie was more talkative than usual, the unfortunate news of the Michaelsons' disappearance more a topic than it should have been.

"They left their kids?" Bella asked, frowning. This was the first she'd heard of it.

"Yeah," Sue said, looking askance at Leah and Seth. "That's what people are saying."

Bella realized that there was more to this disappearance than Charlie thought.

"Some people aren't fit to be parents," Charlie grumbled more to himself than anyone else.

Sue caught it though and rebuked him. "Don't go judging. You don't know what's happened. You only think you do."

No one countered this small fractiousness, and they were all more relieved than sad when the evening was over.

Charlie harrumphed quietly on the drive home. He didn't want to talk more about it or make Bella feel even more uncomfortable than the Clearwaters had.

"You survived?" Edward whispered, watching her sit down on her bed after getting Sarah to sleep.

"Yes," she said, running a brush through her hair. "I'm hoping they warm up to the idea."

"Har har," he said, grinning at her unintentional joke.

"And have things settled down at the Cullen household?" she asked, hopeful for lighter things, smiling still at the memory of Alice's animated excitement.

He smiled. "Oh no. She's just getting started."

"Anyone else joining in on the fun?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know. They had talked about a very quiet, small wedding just for family, and that idea had ballooned out of her hands and into Alice's very capable mental machinery.

"Oh yes." He smiled. "They're all very excited. It's been a long time since we had an actual first wedding to celebrate."

"A first wedding?" she asked.

"Rose and Emmett get married every few decades," he said, "make us all go with all the human acquaintances. Alice and Jasper less so."

"Oh," she said. "We aren't—?"

"No," he assured her. "I plan on doing this just once. Unless you want to—?"

"No," she said quickly, "I'm all for just once."

"Good." He smiled, bringing her closer into a kiss. "Because Alice is already testing my limits."

"We could just elope," she said. .

He looked at her, shrewdly considering the seriousness of the suggestion. "If it's what you want—"

She grinned. "No, not really." She imagined how hurt Charlie would be. "But it might make Alice tone things down if we consider it."

"True." He grinned and then his phone buzzed.

He chortled looking at it, and Bella did too, seeing Alice's text.

"Excellent," he murmured, then putting his lips to other uses.

Charlie's mood, tested already by Sue's displeasure over the engagement and his own mixed feelings, did not improve over the next days. Bella watched him make angry stabs at his salmon and asparagus, wondering if she'd cooked it wrong.

"You and that salmon have some unfinished business?" she asked, gesturing towards his plate with her own fork.

"No," he said, "sorry. Just some frustrating cases at work."

"The Michaelsons?" she asked.

He sighed. "No, new missing persons cases. A college kid, and a retired trucker. A grandpa. Four people in two months. I haven't had that many together . . . ever."

Bella's food suddenly lost all its appeal.

"Anything . . . unusual about them?" she ventured.

"Yes. In all of them, they just vanished. No word to anyone. Just up and disappeared. I mean, who leaves their kids and just disappears? A college kid disappearing? I mean, sure. They go on a bender, do something stupid, probably lying in a ditch after drinking too much, but a retired guy with grandkids?" He shook his head, lost in his own theories, taking another angry bite of his dinner.

Bella sat quietly, Sarah babbling and smacking the table, secure in her left arm. Her right sat poised, fork still in it, as she stared at nothing. No one had said anything to her. Not the Cullens. Not Leah or Seth—though she expected their silence now. Sam was mute as ever.

"You okay?" Charlie asked, seeing her far-away stare.

"Sure," she said. "Tired." They both looked at Sarah, now making animated noises, watching Charlie take another mouthful.

His forehead puckered, seeing it. "She's not sleeping well at night, hey?"

"No," Bella said, "she's been nursing a lot. Maybe teething or a growth spurt." She'd just fed her, but the noises Sarah were making were becoming more insistent. She was rocking her little body towards the table.

"Hmm," Charlie said, getting up.

"What're you doing, Dad?" Bella called out, hearing him rattle around the kitchen. He'd gotten better feeding himself while she was away at college, but she'd reasserted control over the kitchen and didn't like the idea of him making a mess she'd be left with.

"Just a sec," he called, returning after a few minutes with a small bowl and spoon.

"What's that?" Bella said, wrinkling her nose at it.

"Baby cereal," he said.

"She's way too young, Dad," Bella said, shaking her head.

"Sure," Charlie said, picking Sarah up. "You," he added, pointing to Bella with the small spoon, "are also hungry. Eat."

But Bella was watching Charlie, eyebrows a deep V. "Dad—seriously, she's too young, and I do not want to have to deal with gas or whatever else tonight—"

Charlie ignored her, setting to work with Sarah and the rice cereal. She took the first bite and then lunged for the bowl, frantically moving her head trying to get more. "Sure she isn't ready," he said, feeding her the remainder of it. "More?" he asked, bringing his hands together in the baby sign.

Sarah answered by opening her mouth for more, and Charlie obliged with a wide smile, fixing another bowl.

By the time she was down to the last few bites, she passed out in his arms, replete and exhausted.

"You're welcome!" he grinned, handing her back to Bella.

"I am sooo handing her to you if she wakes up screaming from gas tonight," she said.

"She won't," he said, shaking his head. "You were exactly like this at this age. You drove your mom nuts. She wanted to keep just nursing you, and all you needed was a little bit of food."

Bella raised a skeptical eyebrow but let it fall, figuring she'd at least have Edward around if things did blow up.

Charlie seemed to have other things on his mind, though, looking at Sarah, now resting on the playmat.

"Have you and Edward talked about any financial planning?" he asked.

"In terms of . . . ?"

"How you're going to support yourselves? Support Sarah?" he asked, as if this was obvious.

Ah, yes. She had asked Edward how she was going to explain his inexplicable wealth.

"My parents left an inheritance, of course," he'd said.

Bella explained with as few details as possible the essence of this lie.

"It isn't a lie," Edward had insisted. "My mother did leave me an inheritance."

"I'm sure she did," Bella concurred, "just not quite the one you've amassed in the last hundred years or so." He had talked about the scale of their finances, and it had been hard to frame in terms that were relative to her. There were a lot of zeros attached to the numbers he'd shown her.

"Because I was thinking," Charlie said, "that seeing as Sue and I are moving in together, you and Edward might want this place as your own. It would save you a lot of money."

"Oh, Dad, wow," Bella said, touched by the gesture, but knowing how much it wouldn't work, not for Edward, "No. I think you should sell it. The Cullens have some rental properties. We were thinking one of those . . . " she trailed off.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "It makes more sense for you financially."

His mouth twisted a bit. He so obviously wanted to help. "Okay. There's no rush on my end. You can always change your mind."

He was in no hurry to sell. He wanted, in some small way, to have the house that she'd known in case she needed a place. In case he left. Again. He didn't say it though but made his silent plans.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	42. Benign Secrets

A/N for 2020-05-10: This chapter is a new one for this story, and has not been beta'd.

Erin

* * *

Edward was making faces at Sarah, holding her up over him as he moved her around like an airplane overhead. Sarah giggled with delight, and then giggled even more when Edward blew a raspberry onto her belly through her clothes.

Beside him, Bella smiled. They were laid out on the Cullens’ lawn, a soft blanket beneath them, and a soft blanket of cloud above. Bella had initially suggested going to the meadow, but Edward had countered with lunch in town and a visit to the Cullens’ home.

She’d wondered at the redirection but had tucked her concern away. There were other questions that needed asking, and her mind was preoccupied with these.

Sarah’s tiny mouth went directly from a giggle to a long yawn.

“Getting tired, little one?” Bella asked.

Sarah giggled, then wiggled her arms and legs in response as she eyed Edward, obviously seeking more play.

“I heard that yawn,” Esme said, walking towards them from the corner of the garden she’d been tending. “It is naptime young lady.” She dusted her hands off and then held them out for Sarah.

Bella lifted her eyebrows at this uncharacteristically stern-sounding Esme. 

“And you definitely don’t want to mess with Grandma Esme,” Edward said, but sat up to hand Sarah to Esme. 

Esme rolled her eyes, but then addressed Bella. “Are you still okay with me putting her down for a nap?”

Bella nodded. “She’s in a pretty good mood. This is probably the best you’re going to get.” She stood and kissed Sarah, rubbing her nose in her downy hair. She and Edward had agreed that it would prudent for Sarah to have lots of time with Esme and Carlisle before they took her for the few days Edward and Bella would be away for their honeymoon. Still, Sarah had initially balked at this plan, particularly around anything sleep-related.

But today, Esme taking Sarah would give her some time alone—or relatively alone time—with Edward.

And she’d been looking for a opportunity to have a conversation with him that she wanted to be unbroken by intrusions, baby-induced or otherwise. She scanned the property, feeling silly. She wouldn’t be able to tell if any of the other Cullens were around--though it was Alice, in particular, of whose presence she wanted to know. Of late, her almost-sister-in-law seemed to want to speak of nothing but the wedding, and while Bella was grateful to give over the planning of said event to Alice, she did not want or need to be asked what style of cutlery would be used during dinner.

Watching Esme and Sarah walk away, Bella sat down again, accepting Edward’s hand, curling up into his other offered arm. The wedding almost felt like a distraction, given what she’d pieced together from the morsels of information she’d gathered about Victoria. Edward had not volunteered more intelligence on this front, and she hadn’t pressed for more, fearful that she’d be met with evasions, silence, or worse, lies. But as she’d watched Charlie fret over the growing stack of missing persons cases that he now seemed to daily bring home, she’d been unable to suppress her own questions. 

She had good reasons for not trying to pull more details from Edward. Before he left, he had been tight lipped about anything vampire-related. Then Jacob had been tightlipped. Sam had been and remained tightlipped. When she’d asked for answers in years prior, she’d been met with stony silence first from Edward, and then from Jacob. 

And then both men, each in their own way, had left.

When she was finally honest with herself, about why she’d been content not to ask, that was really the reason. She was afraid he would leave.

But Edward had promised her that he would not leave. That he would never leave.

She had repeated that promise to herself, over and over again. She did so now, as she picked at the lawn, pulling blade after blade of grass up, stacking it into a neat pile.

“I was serious about eloping, you know.” Edward lifted an eyebrow at the small heap of grass beside her.

“Sorry,” she muttered, patting the pile down, as if this would repair the bald spot she’d made.

He squeezed her hand. “I’m serious. If the wedding stuff is too much—”

“It’s not that,” she said, blushing. Part of her had pretended that she could keep her nerves to herself. She sought a gentle way forward with her questions. “It’s, um, well, it’s my dad’s work.”

“Is something up with Charlie?” Edward’s forehead wrinkled.

“Well, he’s been pretty frustrated by all the missing persons cases.” Then she looked at him. 

His expression betrayed nothing. Disappointment and worry made her gut feel like a knotted ball of wet wool. But she chided herself for being so flimsy-willed.  _ Don’t give up before you’ve even tried. _

“And there are a  _ lot _ of missing people, most of whom have gone missing in very unusual circumstances.” She eyed him levelly. “I wondered if you knew anything about that.”

She watched him, practically seeing the thinking playing out in his mind.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked. 

And with relief, she saw that there was no condescension. No suggestion that it might be better if she didn’t. He was simply asking if she wanted to know.

“Yes.”

While he looked unhappy, it was clear enough that it was because of what he spoke, and not because of to whom he spoke it. “We think so. The person with her that we saw last fall was listed as missing, too. But we can’t be entirely sure. People do go missing, just . . “

“Not so many, not all from one area like this.”

“No.”

His hand squeezed hers again. “Were you afraid I wouldn’t tell you?”

“Yes.” The word came out as air, she was still so agitated.

Their hands moved, as he brought them tighter together. “We’re together in this, Bella. I haven't wanted to distress you. I thought you would ask if you wanted to know, but I didn’t realize not knowing was worrying you.. I’m sorry.” He kissed her fingers.

She exhaled more loudly and freely. How simple it had been. She’d only had to ask. And he’d answered. So unlike Jacob. So unlike before.

“You need fear no secrets from me, Bella.” His voice was soft and gentle, and earnest, too.

“Just, um, where the honeymoon is?” She offered lightly.

He chuckled. “Just that. And what your gift is. Okay, so maybe a few benign secrets.”

Her thoughts returned to her initial request for the day. “Did you not want to go to the meadow, because you were worried about us being alone there?”

His face became serious again. “We’re never alone, Bella. There are always two of us nearby. But no, that’s not why.” He smiled gently. “I rather enjoy having a few hours with you when Sarah is sleeping.” He leaned forward and brought her down to the blanket, kissing her in a way that made her blush. 

“Um,” she said. “If we’re not alone . . .”

“I assure you, my family is working very hard to pretend we are alone.”

And feeling his lips on hers again, Bella decided that she could very well p retend that they were alone, too.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	43. All the ways I know you

“She’ll be fine, Bella,” Charlie said, taking Sarah from her. “Go,” he whispered, kissing her. “Enjoy your honeymoon.”

They were making their slow rounds, saying goodbye to the guests one at a time.

In the background noise, Bella could hear Charlie talking with Billy about where they were headed. “Not Seattle,” he said with a sigh that measured the depth of relief.

“You all set for your flight out?” Bella asked her mom, more out of habit than necessity. Phil had a solid handle on the logistical end of things these days.

“Yes. Hopefully we get a bit of a view. The weather’s supposed to clear tomorrow.” They were flying out of the small airport in Quileute, supposedly courtesy of the Cullen’s points. Renée had been thrilled to come in on the twin engine. Phill, less so. He turned a beigey grey, hearing Bella’s question.

“So,” Bella asked again, once they were in the car, “you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“No,” he said , “but I will tell you that it’s only an hour away.”

“By car?”

“Yes.”

“At legal speeds?”

“Ish.”

Her face fell.

He sighed. “All right. Just over an hour.”

The rain, sadly, had made its wet presence known towards the late afternoon, and while Alice had prepared for this, they were still damp and slightly dishevelled when they arrived at the unfamiliar house.

She squeaked in surprise when he picked her up and carried her inside.

“So traditional,” she said, smiling at him, feeling suddenly very, very nervous.

Her heart was a loud and irregular thump.

“Want the grand tour?” he asked, putting her down.

“Please. Is this one of the family’s homes?” she asked. It wouldn’t be a surprise if it was. The Cullens acquired real estate like most people did clothes.

“No, it’s just a rental,” he said, “I figured you would want to stay close to Sarah.”

“Thank you,” she said, standing up on her tiptoes to kiss him. He returned the gesture but lightly. Her hands were shaking.

“There’s a beautiful view during the day,” he said, “and a hot tub, too, but it’s not covered.” Looking outside at the windows streaming with water, he added, “But there is a sauna if you’re interested.”

“That sounds lovely,” she said, biting her lip, wondering what one wore in a sauna.

Edward solved that for her, pointing to a set of towels in the bedroom. “I’m just going to get something from the kitchen. Meet you there.”

The small, circular sauna was just off the main bedroom, close to the deck where the hot tub sat. The house felt palatial, and she felt small, her body rattling uncertainly in the space.

She’d set limits on Alice’s choices around her wardrobe, but it was still a physical relief to remove the restrictive fabric of her dress. She folded it, setting it on top of the bag, wondering if she should pull anything else out they might need.

Yes, she decided.

Alice had looked at her, eyebrows raised, when Bella had insisted on adding this item to the bag.

She’d held up her hand when Alice opened her mouth. “I know,” she said. “Don’t want to hear it. Just humour me.”

Alice had mouthed a quiet "Okay” and left it at that.

Edward was waiting for her in the sauna, its low light catching the white of the towel—his only attire—wrapped around him.

Similarly dressed, she stepped inside, letting the door close behind her.

He handed her a champagne flute with one hand, pulling her to him with his other, kissing her softly.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered.

“Don’t look so bad yourself,” she murmured back, shyly.

“And you’re incredibly nervous,” he added, grinning widely.

“That obvious?”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, picking up his own champagne flute.

She raised her eyebrows at this. “I thought you’d be all done pretending for the evening.” He’d soldiered through a bite of cake and the required toasts.

“I wanted to make a toast with just you,” he said softly. “To us, to happiness,” he added, making the glasses chime together as he took a minute sip.

Bella took a slightly larger one and put the glass down. It revealed the shake in her hand too well.

“Bella,” Edward said softly. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

She had turned her head into his shoulder. "Okay,” she said, breathing a bit easier. His body was still cool to the touch but not the sharp contrast she was used to. “You’re almost warm,” she murmured.

“And you,” he said, “are hot. Literally,” he added, grinning. “Here.” He handed her a glass of water.

“You all up on your human care there, Mr. Cullen?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh yes,” he smiled, “Mrs. Cullen.”

She flushed, not quite comfortable yet with the name. “That,” she said, “will definitely take some getting used to.”

He kissed her longer this time, letting her hands come to him. He kept his still, waiting. When her hands circled his waist, he let his take up a matching position.

The towels they both wore tightly tucked, loosened slowly, and when they eventually fell away, neither of them cared. Edward only snagged one back to protect her from the chill of the house when he carried her to the bedroom.

The bed, she realized, held its own heat, and she pulled her hand away, surprised.

“Electric blanket,” he said softly, seeing her look.

“Oh,” she said, suddenly self-conscious.

He’d lowered the lights when they’d come in, but he could see the steady blush on her cheeks, looking at him.

Edward lifted the covers. “You’ll get cold,” he whispered. She slid under them, and he did too, keeping his distance again, waiting for her hands to invite him closer.

He let his fingers linger over her hair, smoothing the snags of the day from it, pulling out the few remaining pins. Her body relaxed at these undemanding touches while his own screamed at him, its wants unmitigated.

Their kisses drew their bodies closer again, and each pair of hands made silent discoveries.

“No,” Bella said, “wait.” She reached over to where she’d set the small box by the bedside.

Edward hadn’t seen it when they’d come back in. He kept his face carefully neutral when he looked at her. “You do know that—”

“I got pregnant the very first time I had sex? With a supernatural creature?”

“Right,” he said, taking the condom from her. “Good point,” he smiled, kissing her.

The shaking had returned to her hands, and he sat up, lifting her to sit on top of his legs, her own straddling his. The next move was hers to make.

They stayed there for some time, their kisses loosening her inhibitions. Her anxiety that he would push her past what she was ready for lessened.

A new kind of insecurity raised its head for her. What if  _ he _ didn’t want to? Was that what he had meant earlier?

He couldn’t miss the sudden tensing in her muscles.

“What?” he whispered.

She blushed.

He loved that she did—not that she was shy, but that he could watch the blood paint her cheeks, admiring the minute trails it traced, curling under her skin. So beautiful.

“Do you . . . not want to?” she asked.

“I do,” he said, eyebrows together, “but I don’t want to push you.”

The blush stayed, her pulse thrumming at her neck.

“Do you want this?” he asked softly, suddenly wishing he hadn’t been so forthright. She was still so nervous.

“Yes,” she said softly, and leaned forward to kiss him again, poised above him. The heat of her body next to his own was electric.

He had to let go of her when their tender flesh met, each of them taking in shaky, sharp breaths. He buried his fingers in the comforter, compressing its feathers into hard, palm-shaped pucks.

Bella’s hands felt like warm butterflies, elegant fingers spread over his chest. Her hip’s movements were tentative and small, these, too, butterfly-like.

There were other urges Edward was contending with. He wanted badly to reverse their positions, possess her mouth with his and pleasure her with each touch of his fingers.

He stayed still instead, body straining against his willpower. It was a kind of intensely pleasurable torture, this restraint.

Of course, Bella had no idea what pulling his hands to her would do.

He flipped her over almost instantly, growling, one hand twined deep in her hair as their bodies knew each other fully. The movement sent a frisson of pleasure along each of his limbs, and he trembled, the growl in his throat melting into a purr.

Bella made a startling gasp, this echoed with several shallow breaths. 

His stony body stopped, petrified by the fear that he might have hurt her. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, a hand at his cheek. “I’m okay.”

Part of him wanted to ask if she was sure, but he stopped himself. He would not hurt her, he told himself. And he would not hurt her by doubting her, either. He’d done enough of that before.

Very gently, and very cautiously, he began moving again, as did Bella, though her body twisted and twitched in ways that were far less controlled.

It was like she was everywhere. A hot hand on his back, his neck, then yanking at his hair. Her knee brushing his own, then her calf urging him forward. 

His growls and moans made music with her wild breathing, and the frenetic rhythm of this song layered itself on the meeting of flesh hot and cold, joined in single purpose.

The trembling in her hands was gone. And when Bella’s body did tremble again, it was with a pleasure that made all human pretense flee from her face. 

She was his. He was hers. 

As her body’s tension seeped from her torso, it was as if it bled into his own. He understood now, why people called it euphoric. It wasn’t just the physical pleasure. Being with her this way, it was them, distilled, all boundaries gone, two in one.

When the wave of euphoria began, he snatched his hands away from Bella’s body, settling them into the bedspread, smashing his mouth into the pillow, before it found a more satiating place to land.

“Edward?” Bella said softly.

His control asserted itself, and he kissed her, hands safe again at her torso.

“I love you,” he whispered into her lips.

His body had no need to rest, and Bella felt, with some surprise, just how much his desire lingered. She wondered if he had stopped because she had and asked him as much.

“No,” he said, chuckling, “just not human. And without human needs,” he added, scooping her up, standing.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“To the bathroom,” he said.

“Oh no,” she answered, pushing herself away. “That I can get to by myself.”

He grinned. “I was rather hoping to take a shower with you.”

“Is that all?” she asked, grinning also.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to other diversions,” he whispered in her ear, picking up the box by the bedside.

She was glad the shower was large and that the bed was too.

She slept late, waking to the high morning sun. When she opened her eyes, Edward’s hand lay in a ray of sunlight, refracting its effect around the room.

It was like waking up in the middle of a rainbow. It reflected her feelings exactly. She’d found the end of it—and the treasure, too, seeing her husband.

“Beautiful,” she said.

He gave a small smile, watching her, but it slipped into a worried frown.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, sitting up slightly.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked, his voice tight.

She shifted in the bed, taking full stock of the sensations that rippled through her. A bit shaky, perhaps. Her hips felt pleasantly dislocated. Wobbly, even. Like she’d felt a few weeks after having Sarah.

“Fine,” she shrugged, but her face darkened, seeing him frown more.

He took her arm, holding it up, and put his other hand over the faint bruise there.

“Are there others?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” she said, more insistently.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said.

“And what if there are?” she asked, eyebrows arched. “Are you going to freak out?”

He had the good sense to chuckle. Then, he sighed. “No,” he said, “but, I want to know. Please.”

Blushing a little, she stood up, and turned herself around, before picking up the discarded towel, wrapping herself in it.

“Like what you see?” she asked coyly.

He grinned and picked her up again. “No,” he said, “I don’t. I love you.”

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	44. Some Honeymoon

Edward had suggested using the hot tub before they go. The privacy of the trees and the now steamed glass railing surrounding it were convenient screens against prying eyes.

In the morning, Bella had awakened with a distinct soreness of the most pleasant kind, which was now forgotten in the heat of the water. The thought that the sensation might return fluttered across the landscape of her conscious mind as Edward carried her back to bed.

She wouldn’t have noticed anything amiss if he hadn’t paused, his hand poised midway between shoulder and hair.

“What?” she breathed.

But then he made her forget the bent of her question. She was lost in his other touches and the magic of his body.

It returned to her, though, as she reluctantly dressed. They hadn’t bothered with the formality of clothes the day before.

“Why did you stop?” she asked, watching him pack everything at a speed she could hardly perceive.

He stopped, coming over to kiss her. “Not everything has to be done with haste,” he murmured.

“Cute,” she said, admiring his artful deflection, “but seriously, why?”

He gave a small sigh. “You aren’t going to like the answer.”

She already didn’t like this answer, feeling her stomach twist itself. “What’s wrong?”

“Alice saw something,” he said.

Bella’s eyebrows knit together. She’d known that Alice and Jasper would be near but at a discreet enough distance to give them some privacy. If Alice was close enough for Edward to hear her thoughts . . . 

Bella blushed floridly at the first realization and then blanched at the second.

Something was wrong.

“What did she see?”

“Two things,” he said, watching her carefully. He waited before he finished, his voice low. “You disappearing to the wolves, and us . . . fighting Victoria.”

Her stomach grew tighter. Yes, she could see why he hadn’t said anything.

All the lightness disappeared from her body, and she felt like a piece of lead, trying to move itself, to coordinate the last few fastenings of her clothes. She couldn’t.

Edward was there suddenly, doing up the last button on her shirt. “Everything will be fine,” he said. “She sees this ending well. This is what we’ve been waiting for, remember?”

She nodded mechanically, but she felt anything but fine about it. She made her breaths forced and even.

“When?” she asked.

“Today,” he said.

She lost all control over her breathing, the air coming in painful gasps that weren’t enough.

“You’re okay,” he said. “Nothing bad is going to happen to anyone. We’re all going to be fine.”

He tried to hold her gaze, but it roamed the room, looking for something she couldn’t pin down. It was his hands, pressed to either cheek and an insistent “Breathe with me,” that brought her back to herself.

She almost didn’t want to ask for more information but did. “Where?”

“Several hours east, nowhere near people,” he said softly.

This, too, she nodded through.

“Let’s go home and get Sarah,” he said.

Sarah.

This was the final remedy for her panic.

"Okay,” she said. “I’m assuming I’ll be going to visit Leah and Seth.” The word ‘visit’ sounded strange to her, coming from her nervous lips.

Edward nodded.

“We’ll be home by the evening.”

“Just another day at work,” she muttered.

Edward chuckled. “Yes, for vampires, I suppose.”

She rested her forehead on his chest. “I don’t like this. Bad things happen when we’re apart.”

“If Alice foresaw any danger, we wouldn’t be apart. And I would come back if there was any hint of it.”

Bella knew well enough that Alice couldn’t see any danger or anything, really, where the wolves were involved. But if she saw success on her end with Eward, there was some comfort to be had there.

The drive back was grim despite Bella’s efforts to think positively. When they arrived at the house, Esme brought Sarah out to meet them, an easy smile on her face.

Bella took Sarah, burying her face in her little neck. It was a physical relief just to hold her again. When she went to nurse her, though, Sarah turned her mouth away, her lips a tight and angry bud.

Edward’s eyebrows rose as he eyed Sarah, obviously listening to things Bella could not hear. 

Bella looked at him, seeing his expression, her own eyebrows shaped by confusion.

“She’s upset that you weren’t here,” he said softly. When he saw Bella’s face crumple, he regretted saying it. “That’s normal. Babies have short memories. Give it a day or two.”

“But if she won’t nurse,” she said, sighing, “how—?”

“Just hold her,” Esme said. “Babies strike at the breast sometimes. It’s okay.”

Carlisle had joined them by this point, hugging Bella. “She was entirely content while you were gone.”

As if to verify this, Sarah stopped her fussing and giggled at him.

“Trickster.” Edward grinned and she giggled at him too.

Bella smiled at this, but the unease of the news of what was to come sat heavy in her midsection.

“Come inside,” Carlisle said. “Jasper wants to talk before we go.”

Bella followed, Sarah in her arms. Everything but them felt numb with disbelief.

She listened as they discussed both what they knew and their strategy.

“There’ll be nine of them, as far as I can tell,” Alice said, frowning. “Maybe fewer. The decision keeps flickering.” She shook her head, and Edward’s mouth matched hers in shape.

“We’ll be fine in terms of numbers, obviously,” Jasper said. “And we could do with fewer if we wanted to.” He cocked an eyebrow at Edward and then Bella, but Edward shook his head.

Bella wanted to scream at him, but she kept silent. It was only fear, she told herself. They knew better than she did what they were encountering. She just needed to get a grip on her feelings. Everything would be fine. 

Rose had enticed Sarah away with the sparkle of her wedding ring and was letting her turn her hand this way and that, catching the light with it.

“Come on,” Edward said, pulling Bella up gently by the hand. She seemed dazed. It worried him.

She followed him up the stairs, still lost in dark possibilities. 

He had her sit down on the bed and began rubbing her back, hoping to distract and calm her, before they had to part ways.

His touch was its own magic, but she didn’t want it at her back and turned to face him. She made very clear what she wanted.

He didn’t resist her wants but did murmur, “Wait,” knowing he needed to get something from the car.

Bella, full of a desperation she could barely grasp, dismissed it, and he knew the untempered touch of her tender flesh against his own. He would have cried if he could have. Their lovemaking was frantic and her own grip violent and tenacious. She didn’t want to let him go, and if she could have kept him there forever in the act, his own Calypso, she would have.

Her fear was palpable and her efforts to smother it, noble. He couldn’t see any way to assuage it, so held her as long as he could.

When he could hear Emmett’s off-colour jokes, inaudible still to Bella, he knew they were pushing their time.

“We need to go,” he said. He made himself try to believe it fully when he added, “Seth and Leah will keep you safe.” He knew logically that they would. Conviction trailed far behind this logic.

She nodded, trying to believe this too, but the ugly worry wormed deeper into her gut, and her hands trembled as Edward started the car.

She wasn’t expecting to be met at the border, but Sam loomed there, wet, taciturn, and brooding.

“I’ll call you as soon as it’s done,” Edward said, leaning in to kiss her and then vanishing when she blinked.

“Some honeymoon,” Sam mumbled, sliding into the passenger side, brushing the rain from his forehead.

Bella said nothing in response, her nerves still too tightly wound.

When they arrived at Seth and Leah’s, the sibling pair came out to greet them, unfazed by the wet of the rain. Seth, of course, was making jokes. “Finally figured out how bad they smell, hey Bella?” He grinned.

Leah elbowed him while Sam looked on darkly.

Bella still said nothing, her lips a grim line, putting Sarah into the baby carrier, trying to keep her dry on the way inside.

They had just stepped in through the sliding glass doors when Sam’s phone rang.

He frowned at the number, scowling as he answered it. “She’s here. What do you want now?”

Bella’s stomach knotted, seeing his face transform into an expression she knew well because it reflected her own: fear.

“Change! Now!” he yelled, throwing down the phone and running outside. Seth and Leah ran after him.

She heard the familiar ripping of fabric and the explosion of sound as three wolves growled, huddled on the deck. Bella’s gaze followed theirs to the water and the distant line of figures rising out of it. She counted eleven, including one with flaming, red hair.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	45. Traitorous Blood

When Edward caught the shift in Alice’s vision, he’d stopped, mid-run, the others in his family flying ahead of him. Alice and Carlisle circled back, the two siblings’ faces matching copies of distress.

“We have to go back,” Edward said. “If they attack, there are eleven—”

“We can’t,” Alice said. “The other group will go through Forks.” She showed him what this would mean.

“Go,” Carlisle said. “We’ll be fine on our end.”

Edward only looked to Alice for confirmation, his body already pivoting to turn back when she yelled, “Go!” 

His legs couldn’t seem to carry him fast enough. As he ran, he called Sam, telling him what was coming, his legs pounding through the mud in a desperate attempt to reach Bella and Sarah before Victoria did. 

Inside the Clearwater’s living room, Bella stood shaking, her arms curled protectively around Sarah. Framed by the sliding glass doors, the snarling mess of vampires and wolves played out like a film that felt moments from becoming her own unpleasant reality. 

Hiding herself was pointless, as was the glass door in front of her. They knew she was here, and if Victoria got through the wolves, she was dead. She debated hiding Sarah, to at least give her some hope of being spared if Bella wasn’t, but she was so frozen by fear, she couldn’t even think of where she could safely leave her in the house. 

Even with the arrival of the remaining pack members, Sam and his small group were still outnumbered by Victoria and her helpers. Bella took the smallest of comforts in the fact that all of the wolves seemed to be safe and whole. So far.

The crash of shattering glass yanked her gaze to the east side of the house. Crouched in a window was a face she knew and yet didn’t. Its human features had been distorted, the blood red eyes making Matt’s features almost unrecognizable.

And then he was gone, a wolf’s maw at his neck, dragging him backwards.

When she turned around again, though, another form stood in front of the glass door. She jumped back as Sam’s black shape brought the vampire down to the house’s floor. When Sam snapped the steely form back onto the deck, he flung the man and himself into the yard. With more shapes moving closer to the house, Bella decided that outside had better chances. 

As she bolted for the door, she slipped on the glass scattered over the carpet, hissing at the sharp sting in her hand and side. Yanking the shard from her palm, she made a tight fist against the blood loss. A surge of adrenaline silenced the other hurts. With her other arm around Sarah, still in the baby carrier, she moved onto the deck and then down the short set of stairs. 

Though the heavy rain blurred her vision, she knew Seth and Leah’s wolfy forms as they flanked her. Back pressed to the house’s rough siding, she slid along it, wondering if she could get to the car or stay where she was. Another wolf joined Seth and Leah, making a shifting semi-circle between her and the vampire attackers that faced them.

It seemed like the hissing sounds had increased amongst the snarls, and the memory of Jasper, frenzied by the scent of her blood, flickered across her mind. The wolves would keep her safe, she told herself. The wolves wouldn’t let anything happen to Sarah.

The swirling mass of shapes shifted, and suddenly Victoria was there, another unknown set of faces beside her. Leah and Seth growled, but Victoria smiled regardless. The other wolves were fully engaged with the other vampires. 

Bella had known, the minute she’d counted wolf numbers against vampire numbers, that their chances of success had been very slim. And now she knew that the chances were none. She wondered if Victoria would let her barter compliance for Sarah’s survival.

“Congratulations, Bella,” Victoria cooed, her voice high and clear over the snarls beneath her. She evaded Seth’s snap easily. “Hope you like my wedding present.” Her gaze darted around, taking in the expanse of the battle.

For all the cold and fearful logic of protecting her child, Bella struggled to find her voice. Everything was locked up in her panicked muscles. She said nothing, her gaze locked on Victoria as she prowled, looking for an opening.

“Of course,” Victoria went on, pacing, trying to pull Leah and Seth away from Bella, “I’d rather hoped to rob Edward of that joy, too. I suppose this will make it hurt more.” 

The wolves held their ground, not inching forward, keeping Bella within a safe circumference.

Bella said nothing, marshalling her words, trying to find the best to protect Sarah.

“I was disappointed that none of you realized my handiwork,” she said, curling her lip at Bella’s chest where Sarah lay. “It was easy enough to take out your dog,” she grinned. “Puppy next.”

Bella’s eyes grew wide. 

Seth and Leah snarled, and Victoria stepped closer, taunting them with her bared teeth. This and her disclosure were enough provocation for Leah to step just a step too far from the careful half-circle they’d been holding. It was clearly the opening that Victoria had been waiting for.

The two other vampires jumped at Seth and Leah, and Victoria’s fiery flame of hair slipped between them.

Bella threw her hands out protectively, feeling the slice of Victoria’s teeth in her forearm. The sensation stopped abruptly as another body rammed Victoria’s into the ground.

Its shape was unmistakable: Edward.

Bella backed up against the house, not letting herself look at her injured arm, both it and her other one now wrapped protectively around her baby. She felt the wall’s safe solidity behind her, leaning against it, the sudden weakness in her legs a surprise. When they crumpled, she only perceived that her view had lowered.

She wasn’t sure how long the violent sounds continued. Her sense of time was distorted, like she was under water, watching the world from beneath its rippled glass. She did fuzzily realize that the pains growing in her body gave her many safe places to hide her terror. Sarah’s regular breathing at her chest tied her, but only minutely, to the present. It was too much to count the seconds or the minutes. She was afraid the numbers would be wrong— or right, but she wouldn’t know. The growing pain was a familiar reassurance, its fiery sting crawling deftly up her arm.

Then she was aware that there were pieces of bodies, some moving of their own volition, littering her line of sight, including a detached head, its vibrant red curled around it, a florid nest.

“Gather it all,” Edward said, coming to Bella. “Burn it,” he called over his shoulder.

“Bella?” he called. “Where are you hurt?”

She didn’t care. “Sarah?” she asked. “Did she hurt her?” She couldn’t look. She’d been too terrified.

Edward had her in his hands, still asleep. “She’s fine,” he said. “Where do you hurt?”

He could smell too keenly that she was bleeding. The profusion of her blood was being masked by the rain, slicking his hair down.

“You’re sure?” she said.

“Yes,” he said with more urgency, “she’s fine. Where does it hurt?”

He was trying to see, without moving her, where she was bleeding. Her arm, yes, and her hand.

“Please let go of the glass,” he said softly.

“What?”

“The glass. In your hand,” he said, trying to loosen her fingers.

“Oh,” she said, opening her hand.

She was unfurling herself, letting go of her hiding places. Sarah was safe.

“My arm,” she said. “I think she bit my arm.”

Edward’s face tightened. There’d been so much venom in the air, he hadn’t realized.

“Get it out, Edward, please.” The burn there had been useful, but it was growing now, its flames licking her shoulder, her torso. “Get it out, Edward. Now. Please.”

He was breathing in shallow breaths. “Seth,” he called, “take Sarah.”

Bella’s vision seemed to be shrinking, but she perceived Seth’s arms as they brushed by her, taking Sarah from Edward.

She wanted to know what he was doing, seeing Edward pull off his belt, feeling it dimly brought around her leg, but she could only tell him what he clearly didn’t understand: “Edward, get it out. Please, get it out!”

His rapid breathing alarmed her. Edward had finally picked her up, and now he knew exactly where she was bleeding. He also knew that it was too much.

Bella was spared her hearing after that, as consciousness left her in a fading pinprick of light, she still trying to mutter the salient words to Edward.

The wolves, some now in their human forms, looked on in horror. “I can’t,” Edward whispered to her, to himself, and finally, to them. “It’ll kill her.” She’d lost too much blood. His body, immutable and forever steady, felt like it was shaking under the weight of what was happening.

When Sam’s words reached him, he had to look, to see his face, to understand him. “Then she’s already dead. Finish it, or I will.”

Everyone but Leah turned to him, mouths open in horror. “No!” she said to Sam, standing in front of Edward. “If I hadn’t have messed up—”

“No,” Sam said. “She knew what she was walking into, being with one of them.” He looked at Edward. “You knew too.”

“We have a treaty,” Edward growled. His voice sounded firmer than he felt. He had no hope but the treaty at this point.

“She won’t be like you,” Sam said, shaking his head, “not from what you’ve told us. She’ll be like them,” and he waved to the teeming pile being assembled. Small pieces of it were crawling where they could.

“And if she is,” Leah said, “I’ll take care of it.” She looked at Sam, and Edward could hear her internal conviction. She would. He swallowed, a shiver running up his back.

He would make certain Leah wouldn’t. He had enough hope for that.

“Sarah stays here until Bella proves herself,” Sam said.

Edward’s heart clenched in on itself, and he opened his mouth to protest.

“Or we settle it now.” Sam looked at Seth, who handed Sarah to him.

The circle of approaching wolves left Edward no choice. He was speechless, trying to grasp at something, feeling Bella’s blood and the seconds slip away in drips. There was none to spare on either front. “All right,” he said, looking at Sarah and then Bella. “Take Sarah to Billy. Please keep her safe.”

Sam nodded, and Edward fled, Bella warm in his arms, her blood mingling traitorously with the rain that still fell.

Behind him, a pervading fire spread a flagrant plume of purple smoke, its tendrils an urgent entreaty to the sky.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	46. Too Perfect

Bella’s thoughts, when they were thoughts, were a disordered jumble, all turned inside out, the feelings in her body a sense she didn’t want to make. She could hear his voice. It didn’t stop. She really wished it would.

It was just too much to hear his remorse.

So she hid. There were lots of places to hide. The flames that had begun in her arm were everywhere now but ultimately shrinking. She curled herself into them, rolled mindlessly back and forth in their undulations—these small merciful moments.

For most moments were not so merciful.

She wanted badly to scream, but, she didn’t. She knew that if she did, she couldn’t hide from the things that were worse than the pain.

No.

So she stayed small, buried in the heat that burned off all possibility for grief.

When it began to retreat inwards, though, she felt the ball of panic and grief in her stomach growing in equal proportion.

It was harder now to shut the voices out. They were becoming clearer.

“When?” Edward asked, waiting, then answering some silent response. “Thank you.”

“She’ll be perfect,” Alice said quietly.

Bella did not feel perfect.

Bella felt like a black hole about to suck in all the life around her and destroy it.

When the last pieces of pain deserted her, she was left with no choice but to open her eyes.

The room startled her.

It was . . . so clear. She could number the motes of dust between her hand and the ceiling.

“Bella?”

Edward.

She thought about standing. Then she was.

Everything was overwhelming. The sounds, the smells that teased her nose. The sights that were too perfect. Nothing was imperceivable.

Her grief was so well soaked in anger, she could barely form the right words. It was like retrieving a language once known and long forgotten to produce them.

“How could you?” she whispered, her voice sounding strange and musical. It should have sounded betrayed and hoarse and broken—like she felt. “Did you even try?” Her hands were clenched in fists.

She could see with perfect clarity his distress, the tight frown, the eyebrows pinched together. He shook his head, whispering, “It was too late. I would have killed you just trying.”

He wished that he could hear her thoughts, but her mind remained an obstinate mystery.

The others had slipped quietly into the room, but their arrival had not gone unnoticed behind her back.

“Where’s Sarah?” she asked, this time with angry demand. She hadn’t heard her, and she should be able to hear her.

“With Billy,” Edward said, voice still quiet.

She could feel the others behind her, hear their tenseness, and turned.

Her body was crouched and low, a guttural hiss at her throat.

Everything about Jasper’s appearance screamed threat. The faint criss-cross of marks she’d glanced over before were wild and vivid welts. His stance might have appeared casual to a human, but his head, straight and pointed in gaze, was locked where he sensed danger—at Bella.

The trickle of a calm she did not want slithered down her body.

“No!” She growled.

Jasper’s face startled with the shock of having his gift thrown back at him.

Edward looked at him in alarm and then Bella, hands tensed.

“Told you,” Jasper said, a shocked whisper on his lips.

Bella’s breathing was loud and fast. She understood on the most intellectual level that she didn’t need it for air, but it informed her mind and relieved some of the anger and grief inside.

“I didn’t want this!” she said and was gone, the open window her escape and the ground rushing up to her feet. She didn’t pause. She simply ran. The bodily exhilaration of the movement, of the air, perceived in every piece of exposed flesh, both startled and alarmed her.

When she heard Edward’s voice, she was glad to make herself stop. She felt like an overstimulated child, ready to explode with everything she couldn’t shut out.

She would have kept running if she didn’t know that he would not stop in his pursuit. She might as well face him now.

“What?” she asked. “What could you possibly have to say?”

“I’m sorry. I love you. I couldn’t—I couldn’t let you die.” All the emotion in his voice was so apparent now. Before it had fallen on the dullness of human hearing, but its richness was flagrant in her ears now.

“I didn’t want this,” she whispered, trying not to hear her new voice.

“I know,” he said just as softly. “I couldn’t—”

“I DIDN’T WANT THIS!” she shrieked. “ _ YOU _ DIDN’T WANT THIS!”

“I know,” he said. “Would you really have preferred I left Sarah motherless?”

“SHE IS MOTHERLESS! LOOK AT ME!”

They were facing each other in the dark of the trees, their resin a thick undercurrent to so many other scents. He reached his hand out, caressing her cheek. “I am. She’s not motherless. You’re here.”

If his touch had been a disarming shock before, it was a stunning voltage now.

She pulled back, not afraid, but alarmed at how it made her feel..

There was so much to take in, it was hard to stay focused. Her anger was fraying, and she struggled to hold its strands together. It was the last protection she had. There was no more physical pain.

There never would be.

“You’re still Sarah’s mother.”

She laughed. It sounded so perfect, musical even. She was incredulous. “I’m a vampire, Edward. She’s a wolf. I can’t—I can’t—”

And she really couldn’t. The anger was dissipating too fast.

“When she turns,” she said, her voice high and cracking, “what . . . what will we do?” Her breathing was fast again. She wanted to cry. The tight feeling at her eyes told her she did, but nothing came.

“We’ll ask the wolves for their help,” he said softly.

“They won’t want to help us,” she said, trying to rest her hands on the bark of a tree, but feeling it crumble instead.

“No,” he said, approaching her again, taking her hand, “they’ll want to help Sarah.”

She gasped, feeling his hand in hers. “You’re . . . warm.”

“We’re the same,” he said gently.

She felt like a wild animal, jittery and uncertain where to focus. Her eyes took in everything, were distracted by everything. It was just so hard to . . . focus, to stay in the present.

He waited a moment, watching her, seeing her calmer than before. “Bella,” he began, “you need to hunt.”

Her hand was at her throat. The sensation there had been a dim realization, but now, now it was a burning fire.

“Oh,” she managed, opening and closing her mouth.

“Come,” he said and pulled her hand, both of them breaking into a run. When they stopped, Bella could smell why.

“What now?” she whispered. Images of Sarah were flitting through her head, dim and murky, but she recalled them, trying to clarify them.

“What do you feel like doing?” he asked. He could see her struggling to concentrate. “Bella,” he said, “focus. This now. Sarah later.”

She looked sharply at him. “Can you—can you hear me?”

“No,” he said, still whispering, “ but it’s clear enough on your face.”

She took a deep breath, gathering the more subtle flavours in the air.

“It’s a matter of feeling, not thinking,” he said, lifting his chin towards the pungent odour.

She answered wordlessly, crouching, the dull and musky scent offering mild appeal. The wind shifted, and she could feel Edward stop, suddenly alert and rigid on her left. When the breeze reached her, she understood why.

This scent’s pull was unmistakable.

“Bella,” Edward said, “No—!”

But she was gone, pursuing the thing that called. When he finally overtook her, he leapt and faced her, blocking the path.

When he spoke again, Bella wondered what was growling.

“Bella,” Edward said, his voice a warning.

_ Oh _ , she thought,  _ I’m growling _ .

“Is that—?” she asked.

“Yes, humans,” he said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“I have to go,” she hissed, holding her breath, turning, running in another direction. When she felt it was safe enough, she inhaled again.

Edward had stopped close by, looking at her, eyebrows pulled together in a deep V. “How?” he asked, gesturing in the direction from where they’d come. 

She shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said, “I can’t—I need,” and she huffed out a breath, hand at her throat.

He nodded, pointing in the direction she was scenting, crouching with her.

Camouflaged to human eyes, but clear in hers, the cougar was prowling, seeking its own prey under the forest’s heavy scrim. Upwind of her, It didn’t smell or see her. It only felt her teeth at its neck, a single and violent puncture.

When she finished, she dropped its body with a startling thump. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it. The warmth of its fur felt strange near her feet. The still vibrant thirst in her throat disturbed her more.

Another but far less appealing aroma reached her nose. It was faint but distinguishable from the forest’s other emanations.

“Deer,” Edward said softly, crouched with her. There were two this time, and Edward pointed to the larger one for her.

The buck’s skin was tough but only something that she perceived, not a real barrier to her teeth. This time, her thirst was slaked to a dull roar. She felt almost full, sloshy even.

“Enough?” he asked.

She nodded, frowning, looking down at herself. Her dress—why was she in a dress?—was torn, covered in smears of blood, leaf mould, and dirt. Edward remained spotless in his white shirt.

“How—?” she asked.

He grinned, beginning to unbutton his shirt. “Practice,” he said.

Bella watched, understanding what he was doing but feeling stronger things stirring. They were familiar but confusing too, these new desires. She hadn’t felt things so powerfully. When her thought to kiss him began, so did the touch of her lips on his.

The sensations were gripping. She could feel everything from the individual touch of each hair on her hands and the new softness of his mouth. She could hear sounds, too, from him, but they weren’t enough to drag her attention away, and it was only when she caught a distinct “Ow!” that she pulled back.

He grinned, his hands still around her waist. “Careful,” he said. “You’re really strong right now. Your turn not to hurt me, okay?” He reached his own hand up to push her hair out of her face, but the sudden transformation on her face alarmed him. “It’s okay,” he tried to assure her. “That’s normal.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head, and backing away. “What if, oh God, what if—what if I hurt Sarah?” Her hand was at her mouth, and she was pacing, then crouched into herself. The tight press of her body did nothing to alleviate the anxious worry inside.

Everything felt so . . . large. Inescapable.

Overwhelming.

Edward crouched with her. “You will not hurt her. Ever. You won’t.”

“You don’t know that,” she whispered.

She never thought she’d miss being able to cry, but she did now. It would have been a release.

“I do,” he said, “because I know you. And I know what it is to be afraid to hurt someone you love.”

“It isn’t the same,” she said.

“No,” he agreed, “it’s easier. You’re her mother.”

He pulled her to him, and at his touch, it was easier by degrees to believe him.

“None of us have ever hurt Sarah.”

“She’s never bled,” Bella whispered. “We’ve never tested it.”

“No,” he said. He wanted to say it would be fine, but he didn’t know. He offered what he could. “I think your love for her is greater than your nature, Bella. I’ve never seen a newborn vampire break off mid-hunt. Or a mature one, either. If any of us can be safe near her, it’s you.”

There were so many other problems that Bella could anticipate, but all she wanted, despite all her worry, was to lay her eyes on Sarah, to see that she was safe and well.

“I want to see her,” she said.

Edward’s jaw clenched. When he’d told the others what Sam had demanded, they’d been horrified. Their fears had been grotesquely unified. Alice’s sight, blinded by the wolves, offered no relief to the morbidity the rest of them envisioned.

“For how long?” Jasper had asked.

“I don’t know,” Edward had said, but he didn’t imagine it was long enough. They wouldn’t tolerate an untested newborn vampire so close to home.

“Bella,” he said. “What do you remember? From after the attack?”

“Not much,” she said. “You there.” She shook her head. It was fuzzy in so many ways. Everything from before was indistinct but that especially so.

He blew out a breath. “I had to make a promise before Sam would let me take you,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of promise?”

“That you would be able to prove you were in control.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “But soon, because they've said they’ll try to kill you if they think you’re a danger—not that we would ever let that happen.”

She was shaking her head still, forehead creased with confusion. “But the treaty—”

“The treaty only covers those who don’t take human life.”

“And I haven’t.”

“No,” he said, “you haven’t. And they want proof that you won’t.”

The last piece clicked. “And they have Sarah,” she whispered. That was why she was with Billy.

He nodded, watching her pace, hands in her hair. “They have Sarah,” she said again.

“Yes,” he said. He wished he had other words to give her.

“They wouldn’t let you take her.”

“No,” he said. “That was Sam’s condition.”

She had intended to punch the tree in front of her. She didn’t expect it to splinter through its trunk as her hand went straight in, the top of the fir tipping in a slow arc, falling to the ground with a thunderous crash. Bella stood, both startled, mesmerized, and then horrified by the result. 

She started at the destruction wrought by her hands.

What would have been tears was now simply a tightness at her eyes, her voice too many notes all at the same time. “Maybe she’s better there with them,” she said.

“No,” Edward said, taking her hand. “I believe in you. Let’s go home and make a plan.”

She pressed her face to his chest, breathing in his scent. Just that was soothing.

“Come,” he whispered softly, but he wasn’t moving anywhere.

She realized she was holding him, and he couldn’t move until she let go. This made her chuckle. “Wow,” she said, “this is going to take some time to get used to.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” he murmured, grinning. “You have about a year before we’re on a level playing field.” Then the grin widened. “Do me a favour. Take Emmett down a notch or two while you can.”

She chuckled. “Pleased to.” So many feelings. So powerful. She shook her head.

“Let’s go,” he said, and this time she released her hold and followed. “Race you!” he called back.

He beat her, handily, grinning broadly in front of the house as she met him.

“What—?” she asked, her face quizzical. A repulsive smell had drifted out of the house with the opening of the door.

Then Leah stepped outside.  


* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	47. Tested

That’s what they’ve all been talking about, Bella thought, trying not to grimace at the smell that came from Leah.

“Leah,” she said, suddenly stiff, suddenly worried that she might be a danger to her.

“You’re okay,” Edward said, taking her hand. “You’re doing fine.”

“I’m sorry, Bella,” Leah said. Her face was twisted with anguish. “It was my fault. I—“

“No,” Edward said, shaking his head. “Victoria fooled us all. If we’d known—“

“I made a stupid move,” Leah said. “And you’ve paid the price.”

“Thank you for your apology,” Bella said, “but I think Edward’s right.” It didn’t make any of it better, but she didn’t want Leah suffering when there was no remedy, at least, no desirable one. She contained the shiver she wanted to give rein to.

Carlisle, Emmett, and Jasper had joined them outside. Bella realized that they had casually placed themselves around Leah, as if they needed to protect her.

Edward answered Jasper’s silent question. “Yes,” he murmured to him, “remarkably well.”

Bella was irked by the way they conversed about her but shoved it aside, focusing on her more important concern. “Have you seen Sarah?” she asked Leah. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” Leah breathed out. “Billy’s taking care of her. He’s . . . he’s holding up,” she finished. She paused and looked at Bella. “And you?” she asked. “You seem . . . yourself,” she said, frowning a little. “I expected you to be . . . ” She shrugged, not sure how to put it.

“Crazy bloodthirsty?” Bella offered, eyebrows up.

“Something like that,” Leah said, smiling uneasily. Her gaze took Bella in, and Bella watched her stand stiffly. Leah was nervous, and Bella didn’t blame her.

“How long do I have, to prove myself?” she asked, thinking of what Edward had told her.

Leah opened her mouth, but Edward spoke in her place. “You don’t,” he said. “This is the first test, which you’ve already passed.” He squeezed her hand.

The first test? “And the next?” Bella asked.

“We go see Billy,” Leah answered.

“When?” She needed time. If they could just give her some time—

“You can’t be serious,” Edward said.

Bella’s gaze had strayed, but now it snapped back to Leah.

“When?” Bella asked again.

Leah looked miserable.

“She’s to bring us,” Edward said softly.

“Now?” Bella asked, incredulous.

Leah simply nodded.

“Let’s go then,” Edward said and took her other hand, holding her gaze. “You can do this, Bella.”

Leah had walked into the cover of the trees to shift, and Bella and Edward followed her when she emerged. They ran west, stopping just before the boundary line on a rough forest road, passable by car, but just. Sam, in his shaggy black form, waited, standing, hackles up.

“What’s the test?” Edward asked, without preamble.

Sam’s answer must have been enigmatic because Edward frowned and then nodded, lifting his chin in the direction they were to go.

Bella was surprised to see them move closer to the reservation, to signs of civilization along the road. As they ran, she could smell things that appealed far too much for their own good. Her mouth was wet with venom, and she found herself swallowing repeatedly. Focus, she told herself. Just focus on passing this test. The heady and distracting scents remained steady, snatches that teased her on the air that wafted by her. Soon though, they strengthened, and Bella’s focus wobbled. It was like trying to balance on an increasingly thin plank.

As they came around a thick stand of trees and shrubs, the source of the enticing smells became increasingly clear. Before them, sat Billy and Sarah.

Bella choked off a cry, diggin her hands into her thighs. This was Billy and Sarah.

Edward spoke softly. “You can do this, Bella, but you need to focus.”

She nodded, grimacing, looking at and trying to focus on Sarah.

She was in Seth’s arms, babbling to herself, well back behind a line of silent wolves. When she saw her mother, though, she began to cry, rocking herself back and forth in his arms, trying to get to Bella.

The dull burn at Bella’s throat was flaring and roaring. She focused on being able to see only Sarah. Edward’s hand in hers helped.

“Oh, Bella,” Billy said, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” she said. “I am too.” Without even thinking, she held her breath and walked towards him, wanting to give him a hug.

A low growl and a menacing brown shape stopped her.

“It’s okay,” Billy said and opened his arms. She moved slowly forward and hugged him very carefully, very gently.

“How’s Sarah been?” she asked, pulling back.

“Fine,” he said, wiping his eyes. His voice trembled.

“And you?” she asked, thinking about how awful it must have been for him, to have to care for more than himself when so grieved.

He was trying to smile, to answer. “Oh, I’ve been holding up. Leah and Seth have been there too, helping.”

Bella nodded, looking up at them. “Thank you,” she said. They nodded back.

“I hope,” Billy said, “that this works out. If not, well . . . ” He didn’t finish the statement but pulled out a small knife he’d held in his hand and sliced open his palm.

Edward gasped. Billy’d kept his thoughts so focused, Edward hadn’t seen it coming.

Bella took in a deep breath, seeing his movement, simultaneously worried that he would hurt himself or that she would.

But nothing happened.

She stood, tense and worried, watching his blood ooze from his hand. The very human worry for his health asserted itself. It was a deep cut. He must have been so anxious, he didn’t feel it. He probably thought he wouldn’t live to have to worry about it, Bella realized.

Everyone else looked on nervously, Edward included.

Bella huffed out an exasperated breath and then ripped a strip from her dress, already beyond saving, and wrapped it around his hand.

“Didn’t take you for the dramatic type, Billy,” she said and then breathed in.

It burned down her throat, the smell intoxicating. The desire to hold Sarah, though, remained paramount.

“Is that it?” she asked, surprised by how firm her voice sounded. She didn’t feel that controlled. She was holding on, but just. At least, it felt that way.

“No,” Sam’s voice called, unexpectedly.

He’d shifted, seeing her safe with Billy, and he walked past the wolves, taking Sarah from Seth. With a small pin, he pricked Sarah’s finger, squeezing out a drop of blood, and carried her within ten feet of Bella.

Bella was livid. Sarah was wailing, opening and closing her hand, and Sam was doing nothing to comfort her.

Bella pushed past the stench of the wolves, trying not to make a face as she did, and took Sarah from him as gently as her anger would allow her. Sarah’s blood registered in her mind, but more than anything else, her sweet baby scent wafted over Bella’s nose, and all the murky human memories were recalled at once. She was  _ hers _ . Hurting her was as far from her mind as it would have been when she was human.

“Jerk,” she muttered to Sam and walked slowly back to Edward, kissing Sarah’s finger. “Ouchy,” she said to her. “Mummy kiss it better?” Sarah giggled in delight, then sighed into her mother’s arms, the small hurt forgotten.

Edward was trying to look as calm as he could, but the relief and disbelief on his face were beyond disguise.

“Let’s go,” Bella said.

Edward nodded, awed wordless, stumbling out a, “We should probably get the car— for Sarah,” he added. He turned suddenly, looking at Leah. “Thank you,” he said, surprised. “She’ll bring it by later,” he explained to Bella.

Bella nodded, trying to contain her giddiness but remembering Billy, said to Sarah, “Let’s say goodbye to Grandpa.”

When she turned back to Billy, though, his face was transformed. Tears streamed down it.

He thought this was goodbye. Forever.

And Bella realized suddenly, too, that there would someday be a final goodbye.

Just not right now but soon.

“What will they tell Charlie?” he asked, swallowing. “About how you all died?”

And then Bella remembered what Victoria had said. Watching Billy, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. She couldn't bring herself to think about what they would have to tell Charlie. She, Edward, and Sarah would all have to disappear. How else would her transformation be explained?

“It isn’t goodbye forever,” she said softly. “Just . . . just for right now. I don’t know,” she added. “We haven’t had time . . . to talk yet.”

He nodded slowly, solemnly, leaning forward to kiss Sarah and to touch Bella’s hand. “I’m glad you’re still you, Bella. You’re an amazing mother. Don’t forget it. And . . . don’t forget that she’s Jacob’s child.” He looked at Edward, not unkindly, but firmly if Bella were to characterize it.

“I won’t,” Bella said. “And we will see you again before we go.” She frowned, realizing that Billy would need to be driven to see them. They wouldn’t be able to go to him.

She wouldn’t be able to go to Sue’s again.

And Charlie was moving there.

She inhaled deeply, feeling Sarah’s scent infuse her lungs. It, too, was soothing. The many griefs remained though, and she felt her face crumpling, trying to shove them away.

Their goodbyes said, they went home, Sarah cradled carefully in her arms. Edward had offered to hold her, but Bella hadn’t wanted to be parted from her.

The rest of the Cullens were openly relieved and joyful at their return. Esme had finally convinced Bella to relinquish Sarah for a few minutes so she could at least change out of her clothes.

She’d grinned, hearing Alice’s exasperated sigh when she sped down the stairs in her own clothing: jeans and a shirt.

“Well,” Alice said, “some things clearly haven’t changed about you.” She gave a small and friendly eye roll.

Bella gave her a friendly punch in return.

“Ow,” Alice said, rubbing her arm.

“Oh,” Bella said, worried. “Sorry!”

“Gotcha!” Alice chuckled.

Emmett’s laughed boomed from the living room. “I dunno, Alice. I’m not sure she’s a real vampire. I mean, really,” he added, coming to join them.

Edward intervened, seeing Bella’s glowering look.

“I think,” he said softly, taking her hand, “it might be time to unwrap a wedding present.”

“What?” Bella asked, still annoyed with Emmett, watching him.

“Come,” Edward said.

“But Sarah—“

“I think we have enough willing caregivers present.” He smiled. “Besides, it’s almost bedtime, and I suspect she will want to nurse. It might be best to let someone else handle the bedtime routine for a few days.”

Bella sighed, looking down at her shirt, frowning.

“She’ll be fine,” Edward murmured. “She’s very happy right now. She knows all of us. Come on, you deserve something light after everything today.”

"Okay,” Bella said reluctantly.

She was surprised when Edward pulled her outside.

“Trust me,” he said.

They walked, not unhurriedly, down a path Bella hadn’t noticed before. It was clear now to her sharp eyes, and she wondered where it led.

This was soon answered by the sight of a small cotta ge whose lights were glowing invitingly in the forest twilight.

“What is this?” she asked, looking at him, rubbing her fingers over his. The change in temperature was a still constant surprise every time they touched.

“It’s ours,” he said, “a wedding gift from the family.”

“They gave us a house?” she asked, incredulous.

“Just a cottage,” he added quietly.

She wasn’t surprised when he swept her up to carry her over the threshold. She’d seen his hands moving, but she smiled, allowing herself to enjoy the sensation of his touch. It was vibrant.

“It has all our things!” she exclaimed. “When—?”

“When we were away,” he answered softly, walking her through it. “Sarah’s room is here,” he added softly. “And our room.”

She looked at it. Centred there was a large bed.

“Vampires,” she said, “don’t need to sleep.”

“No,” he said, , “but humans do. It was planned for a human,” he said, brushing his hand over her cheek. She didn’t blush, couldn’t. But she would have if it was possible.

“No humans here anymore,” she murmured.

“No,” he said, kissing her jaw. “But I can think of some other things we can do with it.”

“Can you?” she asked playfully.

There were no more explanations after that, but he showed her most exquisitely, some of the possibilities such a space held for them.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	48. Explanations

“I hadn’t expected this,” she said softly, tracing her fingers over his arm, enjoying the sensation of their mutual temperature.

“What exactly?” Edward asked, shifting, working his own finger pattern over her back.

“To want you—the same way I did before.”

He chuckled. “I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

She lifted her eyebrows and smiled. She would have blushed, too, if she could have.

A little later, she asked, “How do vampires . . . stop? Not spend all their time doing this?”

Edward returned her smile. “Some don’t, not for a long time.” He grinned more widely, remembering. “Rose and Emmett were the worst. I think it was something like ten years before we could stand to be around them.”

“Ten years?”

“Mmm-hmm ,” he said, leaning in to kiss her, “but, to be fair, they didn’t have a child to raise.”

Bella’s stomach lurched. She’d kept her worries about that at bay during the night.

Her face was still an open book to Edward, though, blushless or otherwise.

“What?” he asked, stopping the movement of his hand.

She sighed. “I’m trying to figure out how we will be her parents, at least to the human world,” she said. “In a few years, we’ll look too young to be her parents, adoptive or otherwise.”

Here Edward pulled her closer. “You’d be surprised what people will believe if you present it the right way. We can say she’s your orphaned niece.”

“Maybe,” Bella said, “but how will we explain the importance of her keeping that secret?”

“Carefully,” he said. “And if it makes it easier, it can be simply what we tell her until she’s older.”

The stab of sadness took her unaware. It was so keen.

“I don’t know,” she said. It seemed an anathema to lie to Sarah.

He smiled apologetically. This wasn’t what they’d planned or hoped for. “We have time yet,” he said softly.

“For that, yes,” she said, “but for Charlie, no. He’ll be home today.” She still wished she could cry. Her eyes felt thick, but there were no tears. “He’ll need to be told something. Soon.”

There was no comfort to offer her but that of his arms. “Let’s talk with the others today.”

Bella nodded. “First, though, let’s go see Sarah.”

“Sounds good,” Edward agreed, standing, pulling her up. Then he grinned widely. “Want to race me?”

She smiled back at him. “Why? Think you can beat me?”

He answered honestly. “No idea, but I’m game to find out.”

He won easily, and Bella made a pretend grimace but otherwise took it in stride, gleefully taking Sarah from Esme’s arms.

“What, done already?” Emmett called, standing up in the living room. His expression was incredulous.

Edward rolled his eyes in his brother’s direction, but Bella looked away, uncomfortable with the innuendo.

Emmett walked up to her, pinching her arm. “Yup, feels like a vampire, looks like a vampire.” Then he cocked an eyebrow at Edward meaningfully. “You sure she’s a newborn?”

Edward’s eyebrows rose. Watching Bella, he held out his arms for Sarah, who was looking at her mother, uncertain of the angry expression on her face.

With remarkable care and tenderness for a newborn, Bella handed Sarah to Edward. “Emmett,” she said, her voice dangerously soft, “can I talk with you outside?”

“Sure,” he drawled, “we can practise our ballet too,” but followed her, pretending to yawn dramatically.

When they reached the gravel of the driveway, she held out her arms for him, a wide smile on her face, and he looked at her quizzically but took the bait.

As soon as he was close enough, she had him twisted around, his arm wrenched up his back.

She could hear Jasper snickering inside.

“Vampire enough for you?” she hissed.

“Sneaky enough,” Emmett admitted. “Still not sure if you’re a  _ real _ vampire.”

She used part of her strength to stretch his arm beyond its natural capacity, and Emmett made a sound that seemed to be the grunting equivalent of ‘uncle.’”

“Good,” Bella spat out, “because if you ever make inappropriate jokes around my daughter again, I will rip your arm off. Are we clear?”

“Fine,” he mumbled.

“Mean it, Emmett, because I do.” She growled.

“If you let my arm go, I’ll pinky swear,” he said, a half-formed grin on his face, “and I’ll mean it,” he added.

She did, and he faced her, hands on his hips. “Means that much to you, hey?”

“Yes,” she said through clenched teeth.

He nodded at her, but his mouth twisted slightly as if not fully convinced of what she was.

She turned back to the house, starting up the stairs, when she heard Alice say, “Esme should answer when he calls.” The phone rang, its electric chirp sharp in Bella’s ears.

There was an awkward moment of waiting when Esme picked up the handset.

“Oh, Charlie, you’re back. How was it? . . . Wonderful . . . .Everything’s good here . . . No, they’re not here, sorry. Just out for a bit . . . Of course, I’ll have her call when they’re back . . . No, not sure why she’s not answering . . . Okay, talk later. Bye.”

Edward was at Bella’s side, one hand holding Sarah securely, the other around her waist. “Do you want to talk to him? One last time?”

Bella’s face crumpled. “He’ll hear,” she whispered. “I won’t sound right.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Edward said. “Do you want to?”

She nodded.

"Okay,” he said. “Later today?”

The family had gathered around, and Bella’s was not the only face creased with emotion.

“Do you want me to arrange something?” Jasper asked Edward quietly. “An accident scene?”

Edward shook his head, not wanting to do this in front of Bella, not now.

The house grew silent around them, the only sound Sarah’s as she watched her family so unusually still.

It was the distant crunch of tires on the edge of the drive that made them all flick their attention outward again.

“Leah,” Edward said, watching Alice’s face twist in consternation. “She’s just returning the car,” he added.

Leah, however, was not simply there to do that. Her nervous heart rate thudded above the hum of the car’s engine. By the time she pulled up to the house, it was a rapid and irregular thump.

Edward was perplexed by her thoughts, which were a strange and focused mixture of Sarah’s and Charlie’s faces. She was keeping something from him, but what, he wasn’t sure.

“Hey,” she said a little breathlessly, shifting her weight anxiously, and then tossing the keys to Bella, who caught them easily, one-handed.

“Hey, yourself,” Bella answered. “What’s up?”

Edward took in a sharp breath but said nothing.

“What?” Bella asked, hearing it.

Leah answered most unsatisfactorily by exhaling loudly. She looked at Edward, whose tense face told her that she should share this herself.

“I, um,” she started, clearing her throat, “I talked to Sam.”

Bella said nothing, still waiting.

“And asked permission to tell your dad about what we are.”

Bella’s eyebrows went up in alarm.

“I showed him, actually,” she clarified.

Everyone stared. Bella was opening her mouth to say something, but Leah rushed on.

“He took it really well . . . after he sat down for a few minutes.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Leah said.

Bella exhaled. It made sense. It saved him finding out on his own, living with Leah and Seth.

“I know that you’ll need to leave eventually,” Leah said, “but I thought you might be able to stay, if . . . well, if he understood that the world wasn’t quite the way he imagined it was.”

“What did you do?” Bella asked, horror curdling in her midsection. If she’d told him, it put him in so much danger—

“I didn’t tell him anything about you,” she said, her gaze taking in the whole of the Cullens. “But I said that you,” and she looked at Bella, “were . . .  _ different _ . And that he really didn’t want to ask any questions about it. Anyway,” she said, “he was sort of concerned after that and had a lot of questions that I couldn’t answer without breaking the treaty. I told him it was better if he didn’t ask,” she finished a little lamely.

Bella breathed out a sigh of relief.

“So,” Leah said, clearing her throat more loudly than before, “he’s, um, he’s on his way here right now.”

“Wha--he, you what?” Bella’s voice felt like exploded from her chest. Around her, other voices rose in loud recriminations.

“You’re bringing him here with Bella being a newborn? Do you have any idea—?” Edward started.

“She’ll be fine,” Leah said. “If she can handle what Sam threw at her, then she can handle Charlie.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Edward challenged her. “Have you thought about the implications of that?”

“She’ll be  _ fine _ ,” Leah said again. She gestured to Sarah in her arms. “I mean, look at her. With Billy, with Sarah—”

“All of whom are Quileutes,” Edward growled.

“We’re not  _ that _ different,” Leah said.

Rose snorted derisively, then pinched her nose in illustration.

Alice was all business though. “You,” she said to Leah, “need to leave, so I can see what’s happening.”

“No way,” Leah said and shook her head. “I told him I’d be here. He needs the moral support.”

Alice gritted her teeth but looked to Bella for her lead.

“Fine,” Bella said, face twisted with worry.

Everyone could see it was not.

“Come on, then,” Alice said to Bella, “let’s get you some contacts.”

Everyone disappeared to their various haunts in the house as Bella fiddled with the contacts.

“I’m not sure how long he’ll stay,” Alice said, “but you’ll need to replace them every few hours, okay?” she told Bella, who was blinking at them, each microscopic scratch a distraction. “It’d be good if you were holding Sarah, too,” she added. “Just remember not to move too quickly, okay?”

"Okay,” Bella said, wondering if she had been moving too rapidly.

“You don’t when you hold Sarah,” Edward said softly, coming up beside her.

Sarah had been held most of the morning though and was fussing to be put down with her toys.

“You’ll be fine,” Edward said, hoping he was right.

It was at this point that they heard another set of tires making their way down the driveway.

Carlisle appeared by the front door along with Esme. “Ready?” he called out to them.

“As I’ll ever be,” Bella mumbled. When the doorbell rang, she shut her eyes, a silent prayer on her lips.

Then Carlisle opened the door.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	49. Family

Posted 2020-06-20

* * *

“So,” the young lawyer explained, her eyes lingering too long over Edward, “once the paperwork’s signed, the adoption’s legal.”

“Good,” Edward said, smiling down at the neat print and signing his name. He looked at Bella and squeezed her hand. She smiled back.

Sarah was still happily occupied beside them on the floor, crinkling the paper she’d found in the recycling bin between her little hands. Every once in a while, she would look up at them from this textural delight, returning their smiles with her toothless one.

“And here,” the lawyer said softly, pointing to other pages for them to initial. Tapping the half-inch of papers together, she said, “Congratulations. It’s official.” Clipping the bundle together, she stuck on a blue corner to the stack. “I’ll file it with the court later today. Are you doing something to celebrate?”

“Yes,” Bella said softly. “Going to Grandpa’s wedding tomorrow.”

“Oh lovely.” The woman smiled politely but with little genuine interest. She was still paying too much attention to Edward.

Edward appeared not to notice, his eyes on Bella as she picked up Sarah, who giggled when Bella tickled her. 

They walked towards their car slowly, as always, careful of their appearance in public. Their little family drew eyes everywhere, the sight of them so startling. It didn’t help that they were young and with a child. People naturally stopped and smiled and then wondered.

“Home?” Edward asked, taking Sarah and swinging her side to side as she squealed in delight

Bella nodded, her delighted smile of a different kind. It was hard not to be delighted about the prospect of alone time with her husband. Esme had asked to Sarah out for a stroll later.

As they drew closer to the house, Edward murmured, “Charlie and Sue are visiting.” 

“Can you let me out here?” Bella asked, lifting her chin towards the trees that bordered the drive.

Edward answered by pulling over. Bella exited carefully, mindful of Sarah’s eyes on her. They’d made a point of behaving as human parents would in front of their daughter. It was a habit built in stages, and while she might not be mindful of their differences in the present, there was no signage to mark when she would, even with Edward’s gifts.

Bella’s hunt was quick and efficient, as well as mercifully tidy. It had taken practise, but she was as spotless as Edward when she needed to be. 

Their short trip resumed, and they were soon at the house, Charlie waving at them as they walked in the front door. Clad in his suit jacket, his hug was awkward.

“Hey, kiddo,” Charlie said to Bella. He’d stopped reacting quite so physically to her changed form, but she could tell her temperature still jarred him.

He’d stared the first time he’d seen her after the change, eyes wide, jaw moving up and down in incomprehension, but then he’d yanked her into an awkward hug, muttering, “God, you don’t turn into a giant dog too, do you?”

She couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. “No, Dad.” The familiar thickness at her eyes had been there. She’d thought of Jacob and had wished Charlie could have known what he’d been.

“All official now, huh?” Charlie asked, pulling her back to the present. He was looking at Sarah in Edward’s arms.

“Yes,” Edward answered, grinning, “I’m officially your dad, little Miss Black,” and he planted a gentle kiss on Sarah’s head. She patted at his hands, inviting more of her favourite activity: tickles.

“Is Alice fussing over last minute plans?” Bella asked, looking around the living room at the swaths of fabric there. It had been something, watching her insinuate herself into Charlie and Sue’s wedding plans.

“She does it well,” Charlie mumbled, resigned.

“I,” Alice protested, skipping down the stairs, “do not fuss. I manage—well, too, thank you very much.” She tucked a pin into some invisible spot in Charlie’s jacket. “There. Done.” She helped him slide it off. 

“Thank you, Alice,” Charlie said softly.

She replied with a knowing smile, waving Sue towards the stairs to help with the last alterations to her wedding dress. The outfit was entirely of Sue’s own choosing, and Bella had not stopped admiring the fortitude Sue obviously possessed in being able to deflect a determined Alice Cullen. With good grace, Sue had accepted Alice’s offer to alter the dress to Sue’s specifications. 

“The house looks completely different,” Charlie said. “Did you by on you way in?”

Bella shook her head. She wanted to be surprised. It would be their last hurrah there, and then it would be turned over to the new owners in the following weeks. Charlie’s things were already at Sue’s.

“Everything seems set for tomorrow,” Edward murmured, letting Sarah down to crawl towards her favourite assortment of toys. She liked playing with the fireplace tools, batting at them, hearing them clang together in their stand.

The three of them were sitting in the living room by this point, watching Sarah play. Charlie frowned a little, seeing her current choice of toy.

“Those’ll hurt her fingers, you know, if they fall,” he mumbled. He bent to pick her up.

Bella smirked. As if they’d let anything happen to Sarah. They’d see them falling and have them back up before Charlie even noticed, but she hid her smile and nodded, trying to redirect Sarah to something less worrisome to Charlie. She seemed content to pick at the bark on the firewood for a bit.

It was easy to simply be together. The unexpected reprieve Leah’s actions had given them was a piece of happiness she’d never expected. While Sam had made it very clear that the Cullens were still not welcome on the reservation, Forks remained a peaceful middle ground. Charlie visited her there or here at the house, sometimes with Sue. More easily, it seemed, with Alice—who charmed everyone. Sarah was the ultimate glue, though. Her life delighted them all. It was Esme who had suggested that the weekly family dinner could easily be arranged there, which would take the cooking off of Sue’s hands. The first one had begun awkwardly, but between Emmett taking friendly wagers on the game and Sue and Esme chatting about children, it had evolved into a near easiness that grew with each repetition. Leah and Seth had quietly agreed to leave the jokes about in-law smells to themselves.

“Are you registered for classes this fall?” Charlie asked, looking at Bella. He didn’t inquire about Edward. He’d seemed to gather without any help, that Edward was older than he presented himself. No one had corrected this presumption.

Bella nodded, excited. She was taking three, none of which would lead to a degree, but all of which interested her—in literature. They were enough to keep her mind active but still leave lots of time for Sarah . . . and Edward. She smiled at her husband, who returned the expression, his fingers brushing hers.

While charlie had not asked many questions about Bella and her strange transformation, but he had asked about Sarah. Those had been harder to answer.

“I don’t know, Dad,” Bella had whispered the first time, “but probably, yes.”

“You knew,” he’d gone on, “when you and Jacob—?”

She was glad she couldn’t blush anymore. “Yes.”

He’d blown out a long, almost whistling breath, then asked, “Did you know . . . ” and here he looked around the house, his eyes gesturing to the invisible Cullens, “about them? Before . . . ?”

She’d nodded.

“You couldn’t tell anyone?”

“No,” she’d said. “Not without endangering them.”

“From what?” he asked, eyebrows pinched together.

She’d shaken her head.

“Need to know,” he’d grumbled, standing, hands on his hips. Bella had seen that he’d been trying very hard to contain his anger at being so easily fooled by his own beliefs.

“Dad,” she’d said very softly, “can you not just . . . accept that I’m okay? That everything is fine?”

“It’s not, though, is it?” he hissed back. “You look like you. You sound like you. Sort of. You don’t . . . feel like you. And you can’t say anything . . . and I’m just supposed to accept this?” He looked around the house, indicating a broader meaning to the word.

“I’m happy, Dad. Sarah’s well. Isn’t that enough?”

“But you need to leave. That’s what Leah said. Right?”

“Not for a while. Not if you can handle . . . this. No, we don’t.”

He had not wanted them to leave, despite his disgruntled stare, but it had taken him a while to think about it, pacing their living room, watching Sarah, feeling his heart creak.

Charlie had called Billy next, angry as stink, asking him what the hell else he hadn’t told him about his future step-children, Jacob, Bella, the Cullens. Sarah. Billy had just told him to shut up, calm down, and go see Bella and Sarah while he could, his own voice cracking with emotion.

It had helped to put things in perspective.

“Yes,” he’d finally managed, in a gruff voice, “but damn if I don’t have questions, Bella. Do you really expect me not to ask them?”

“You can ask them,” she’d said quietly. “I just won’t be able to answer most of them. I’ll tell you as much as I can . . . safely.”

Then he’d asked her what had happened.

“Something unexpected,” she’d said, and he rolled his eyes. “I’m here, Dad. We’re safe. We’re well . . .  _ happy _ . Please . . . leave it at that.”

“Fine,” he’d huffed, “for now.” Then he’d asked how the honeymoon had gone, settling into what had obviously felt like inane questions to him. By the time their half an hour had passed, he’d seemed to accept that Bella was happy.

“Everyting is the same, Dad,” she’d said. “You just know that things are a bit . . . different now. That’s all.”

He’d nodded, and when it was time to go had held Sarah to himself, who squirmed at being so compressed. “Miss you, sweet one,” he’d mumbled.

“You can come back anytime,” Bella’d told him, still holding her breath where she could.

She smiled to herself, remembering all this. It wasn’t . . . easy being around him, but it was manageable.

“All right,” Charlie said, standing, seeing Sue come down the stairs, “we’re off.”

His heart rate was up. Bella realized that he was nervous. She supposed that was natural even for a second wedding.

“See you all tomorrow, okay?” he said, reaching down to hug Bella.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” she said, returning the gesture as gently as she could.

Bella saw them off, Edward staying with Sarah, who was too happily engrossed in her play to be moved. She waved, watching the taillights swim down the driveway, hearing Sue and Charlie’s contented chatter long after they thought it was inaudible to her.

“Ever feel like you’re living in a bit of a fairy tale?” Charlie asked Sue.

“That’s because you are.” She laughed back.

“Complete with giant dogs,” he mumbled.

Bella could hear Sue’s laugh at this. She could imagine that Seth and Leah’s transformations hadn't been something to laugh about not so long ago. It made her happy to hear the lightness in her voice.

“Love you, Charlie,” Sue said softly.

Bella could hear the smile in his voice. “Love you too.”

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


	50. The End

Posted: June 22, 2020

* * *

Sarah’s timing was not good.

“First teeth,” Carlisle said, patting Edward reassuringly on the arm. “Nothing to worry about.” He grinned.

Edward frowned at Carlisle’s smug thoughts.

Carlisle chuckled and added, “It isn’t often I get to surprise you with something. Let me enjoy it.”

Edward grumbled something about werewolf children.

Bella politely did not add, “Told you so,” to this melee.

“Better safe than sorry,” Edward murmured to Sarah. “Count yourself lucky to have a doctor amongst your grandfathers—even when they’re smug.”

Sarah was oblivious to this and kept crying, refusing even her preferred chew toy, Edward’s fingers.

Bella bit her lip, worried. The wedding was in a few hours. She didn’t want everyone’s predominant memory to be of a screaming baby.

“She should be better in a bit,” Carlisle said gently, “or you can give her something for the pain.”

Bella frowned at this suggestion. She didn’t like giving Sarah medication unless she absolutely needed it.

Edward and she were taking turns pacing with her outside the house in Forks the hour before the ceremony when Sue stomped outside, half-dressed. “Jeez, you two. Give her here.” She held out her arms insistently.

Bella didn’t dare refuse, watching the look on Sue’s face. Sue took Sarah gently and then offered her the frozen cloth she had in her hand. “Here pudding, try this.”

Pudding?

Sarah fussed a bit and then sighed into gnawing on the frozen cloth, eyes closing almost immediately. Her head was starting to droop, and Sue passed her back to Edward. “And you can drool all over your dad.”

“Thank you,” Edward mouthed silently.

“You’re welcome. Nothing like a little experience. Seth was the worst with teething.” She shook her head. “I put some more in a bag in the freezer.”

Sue turned around and marched back into the house, much to Alice’s relief, Edward could tell. She wasn’t pleased to have her work seen half done.

“At least,” Bella said to Edward, “we don’t need to worry about losing sleep.”

“Or wasting time sleeping,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss her. She was wearing a long, plum-coloured dress that suggested deeper colours in her hair and made her ethereal skin look even more so. The casual passersby, out walking dogs and such, stopped and gawked at regular intervals.

“Shall we go make ourselves more inconspicuous,” he asked, standing back up, Sarah still asleep on his shoulder.

“I suppose so,” Bella said. “Things’ll be starting soon.”

They held hands, walking slowly back to the house, watching the other guests arrive, sitting with the rest of the Cullens.

The ceremony was simple, and Charlie and Sue recited the most traditional of vows to a quiet chorus of “Aws,” and sniffles and then louder “Woots!” when they kissed. Most of the noise came from the pack, but Emmett added his own enthusiastic whoops.

Charlie had originally suggested a BBQ instead of a formal dinner and thought they might cook up the fish he and Billy had caught. Alice had coughed quietly at this suggestion and politely pointed out that cooking dinner might make it difficult for him to spend time with his bride. When Charlie had opened his mouth to object, he’d seen Alice’s look towards Sue and then wisely shut it again. 

They’d compromised. Fish was most certainly on the menu, sourced from local fishermen, but Alice had found a small and upcoming caterer. The celebration had morphed from there into rented tables in the large back yard, twinkle lights, and centerpieces.

It did look lovely, but Bella could see Charlie looking around every once in a while as if he’d wound up somewhere he didn’t quite recognize.

“It’s okay,” she said, sidling up to him. “Just keep drinking your beer, and you’ll forget that you’ve been Aliced for your wedding.”

He chuckled good naturedly and put his arm around her. “Enjoying not being the centre of attention?”

“Very much,” she said, smiling.

After surveying the scene, he added, “You look happy together.”

The smile was so easy, it spread across her lips. “Very.”

“So,” he said more softly, “Sam came by last night.”

“Oh yeah?” Bella said casually, tensing a bit, wondering what this could mean.

“And then he told me that seeing as Sue and I were getting married, there were a few things I should know.” Then he took a larger drink of his beer.

Bella waited anxiously but didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t break the treaty, would he?

“Apparently, I shouldn’t be surprised if I find a lot of dog hair tracking in and out of the house.”

Bella bit her lip, trying not to laugh. “Wolves,” she coughed into her arm, instead.

“Uh-huh, so he said.” He turned to look at her. “You want to add anything?”

“Nope,” Bella said, grinning a little.

He grimaced but turned back.

Bella’s face fell, watching him. He wanted to know, and he was as stubborn as she was when set on something.

“Dad,” she said much more seriously, whispering. “I really can’t. Not without putting you in danger. Everyone here would be in danger.” She swept the room with her gaze. “Sarah, you, Sue.  _ Everyone _ .” She swallowed. “The kind of danger that even . . . giant dogs couldn’t stop.”

He huffed out a breath. “Fine,” he said evenly, “but man, the curiosity is driving me nuts.”

At least, Bella thought, it isn’t killing you, because it could.

His relaxed shoulders told her he was letting it go.

For now.

She hoped, forever.

Sue had noticed their tete-a-tete and made her way closer, an inquiring eyebrow up. Charlie smiled, putting his drink down and leaning in to kiss her.

Bella took her cue to leave and found Edward.

“Ready to go home?” he asked, watching guests starting to trickle out.

“We should stay, and help clean up.”

Edward shook his head. “We have the perfect excuse. We have a baby to put to bed,” and then he leaned down and kissed her in a way that ignored the presence of their daughter in his arms. “And then,” he said, “we can go to bed.”

This did sound like much more fun than helping to clean up.

They made their farewells and then slipped out into the night, finding their quiet way home.

_ Fourteen years later _

It’d been Leah who came when Bella called.

At first, Bella had thought that Sarah had come down with the flu. Edward had called Carlisle, concerned enough when the high fever hit three days running. She’d missed school. She loved school and never missed a day if she could help it.

“Do you want me to come?” Carlisle had asked. The remainder of the family was in upstate New York by that point, just a few hours away.

Bella and Edward had looked at each other. “It might be a good idea,” Edward said. “I think we’d feel better having you here.”

Sarah had been cogent enough until the third day and her startling delerium wasn’t unexpected, but it wasn’t reassuring either.

It was the smell on the fourth day that made all three of them realize what was actually happening. Carlisle could see his presence wouldn’t be helpful and said his goodbyes, whispering a quiet one to Sarah from the door of her room.

“How long?” Bella asked Leah on the phone. “Until—?”

“A day, maybe two,” she said, “from what you’ve told me. I’m literally packing a bag right now. I’m not sure if I can get there in time—it’ll take me a bit to get to Seattle—.”

Edward was on the other line by this point though. “Just tell her to get to the airfield near La Push as soon as possible. I’ll have someone there,” he said quietly, handing over the receiver.

When she’d arrived late that night, she’d taken one look at Sarah’s room and said, “You guys got camping gear?”

“Sure,” Bella said. “Why?”

Leah cleared her throat and snorted out a laugh. “You really have to ask?” she said, eyeing the room. “I mean, I’m assuming she likes her room, right?”

“Right,” Bella said, realizing what she meant. “We’ll get it ready.”

Their house was already well set back into the woods, and they moved her and Leah into a large tent in the back yard. It ran against all of Bella’s instincts despite the growing odour to be far from Sarah.

“You should really give us some space,” Leah said, seeing her reluctance. “You’re her parents and everything, but . . . I’m not sure how she’s going to react to you . . . especially this first time. It’s hard . . . ” she said, looking around a little awkwardly, “for me, after so long, I mean—”

“We understand,” Edward said, and so they’d both nodded, uneasy and anxious but staying in the house, giving them as much space as possible.

Bella had a keen appreciation for how Charlie had felt watching her go through labour.

“She’ll be okay,” Edward said, watching her fret. “Leah’s here. She’ll help her.”

Bella could only nod, wordlessly worried.

The physical reaction, hearing the sound the first time and the snarling confirmation had been viscerally painful for Bella. She curled down into herself, hands balled.

“She’s okay,” Edward said, hands on her shoulders, “Leah’s talking to her. She’s walking her through it.” He swallowed, hearing Sarah’s internal alarm.

They’d told her what her father was, what she would likely become.

But the process itself? They couldn’t have possibly prepared her for it.

When she’d visited Charlie and her Quileute relatives in her summers, flying out on her own when she was old enough, they had quietly added more information. She’d seen Leah transform the summer before, Leah herself unaware. It had terrified Sarah, but she’d said nothing, hoping it wouldn’t be her own legacy.

Edward was seeing Sarah for the first time as her new self, and he could tell from Leah’s startled thoughts that she was more like her father than her human form revealed.

He smiled at Bella. “She looks like Jacob,” he said and Bella’s face crumpled. He squeezed her hand.

“Can we see her?” Bella asked. “Is it safe?”

“I think we can watch from the door,” Edward said, “but Leah doesn’t think we should get closer.”

Bella gasped. Sarah was _ exactly  _ like her father.

“Oh Sarah,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion.

Edward could hear the alarming thoughts swimming in Sarah’s mind, but these were partly silenced by the reassuring sight of her parents.

“Yes, it’s us,” he called.

“Love you,” Bella added. “How’re you doing?” She waited, looking at Edward for an answer.

He was listening, eyebrows pulled together, intent. “It’s . . . overwhelming, I think would be the best word,” he finally said. “Go,” he added to her, “Leah will show you.” He didn’t add that he wanted to go with her. She needed to do this on her own.

As she and Leah disappeared into the woods, breaking into a run, their hearts ached dully.

“I trust Leah,” Bella finally said. “I just—”

“I know,” Edward said. “I feel exactly the same way.” They waited uneasily together for their return.

Leah stayed for three weeks, phoning home every day, talking to Jim, who was wrangling their own children, now eight and ten. “I think I should be able to head home soon,” she said. “Things are going well here.”

“Yeah,” Jim had said, “I can’t complain. No one’s turning into a wolf on my front.”

“And just be grateful they won’t,” Leah mumbled. Jim wasn’t a member of the pack, and their children were adopted. Her own transformations were few and far between with only the occasional vampire straying near enough to their territory to trigger one. Those vampires didn’t return—or leave either.

She’d dared hope that such transformations would soon be behind her, that she could simply be herself, age.

But looking at Sarah, she knew she would have to put those plans on hold for a time, anyway. She needed to be taught, and here, these few weeks were not enough.

“I know,” Edward said, hearing her. Bella and Sarah were out getting groceries. That had been the other surprising development: Sarah’s appetite. She’d refused utterly, to “eat wolf” as Leah had suggested, and Leah had chuckled, remembering her own distaste. It had faded over the years, but the memory was clear enough.

“This summer?” he asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “Too dangerous to wait. She’s doing okay, but I wouldn’t want to push it.”

Bella kept trying to tell herself that this was just like sending her daughter to visit relatives, but it was entirely different, watching her disappear into the swirl of people at the airport with Leah.

When she had returned, months later, she was transformed. Taller than her mother, she beamed with a smile that was all Jacob.

Bella and Edward held back, wanting to throw their arms around her, but uncertain, not sure of their welcome.

It was Sarah who threw her arms around them both. “Mom, Dad,” she said, “I’m so glad to be home.”

The feeling was more than mutual.

It became apparent as the years passed that Sarah’s aging had halted just as Jacob’s had, and when, after her many regular visits to Charlie became more about her regular visits to Sam and Emily’s son Clay, he too returned with her one year and didn’t leave.

As Bella and Edward slipped into the privacy of the woods to hunt, Sarah and Clay’s other forms sprinting after them, they turned to each other, smiling, enjoying the happy thought of this easy eternity, only begun together.

* * *

DISCLAIMER: S. Meyer owns Twilight. No copyright infringement intended.


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